Two small boys and a muddy flower bed = hand prints on the side of the house!
We all leave a mark of some kind. Perhaps in the context of history, the mark that we leave is about as permanent as these muddy hand prints, soon washed away and forgotten about. Perhaps our names will be looked up and placed in a family tree by our distant descendants. In the corridors of eternity our presence must be no more than a transitory echo, the whole sum of our existence and efforts no more permanent than the blinking of an eye.
We do matter and we do have a permanent and real and significant place not only here and now, but always. These are some words of Jesus (speaking about His followers) from this mornings Gospel:
I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.
Death is more of a beginning than it is an ending and as our Psalm reminds us this morning (Psalm 23), He is there with us not only in life, but in death too:
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.