We are all "renters" in this world

Yesterday afternoon, the 4th of July, I was sitting alone on my deck at the back of my house, with a Yuengling beer in my hand, eagerly waiting for my grilled chicken to get done. The weather was perfect: sunny but somewhat hazy, with a light breeze to keep the bugs from gathering. All was quiet in my neighborhood. Looking over my wooded backyard, I felt restful and contended. I felt blessed, in the sense that I had no worry of any kind.

All of a sudden, a thought crossed my mind: here I am sitting on my deck, behind my house. But is this deck really mine? Is this house really mine? I know I bought the house and I have the title to prove it. It is all paid for. But I also know that one day I will be gone, but this deck, this house, and all those tall pines and oaks will most likely still be there long after I am gone, and this backyard will most likely look just as serene.

I bought this house, but I can't live in it forever. I can live in it only as long as I live and I don't live forever. I am actually a renter of this house for the duration of my life; I don't "own" it.

Aren't we all renters in this world? Would any "owner" please stand up?