This experience with Ian has reminded me again of how fleeting life is. I don't belong here on this earth and neither does Ian. Christ died for our sins. He made us new creatures. He promised homes for us in heaven. He made us for heaven. Like the moon doesn't seem to belong in the sky when it's still light out, I don't belong here. Things that I desire and pursue will one day not be there to pursue, because I'll shed this life and all it's pursuits like a worn-out pair of jeans. I once made a comment to a friend about how pointless it seemed to spend so much time fixing our houses: "it's all going to burn anyway." He wisely pointed out that we have to have somewhere to live while we're here. True, but I want to hold things loosely. After all, I don't belong here.