Cleaning house is not my proverbial cup of tea. While cleaning the other day, I found a bookshelf that had accumulated a thin layer of dust. Instinctively, I inhaled deeply to blow . . . I stopped.
Dust is fragile and easily blown about. Each tiny particle floats on any breeze that passes without a seeming path until it gently settles again into a quiet place of rest. It remains there until someone walks by, a door gets slammed, the cat finds a new spot to romp, or a man decides to clean.
The Bible says, As a father pities his children, so the Lord pities those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust (Psalm 103:13-14).
We forget what we are, but He remembers and has compassion.