When the news carries stories of cascading crises—disease spreading across continents, infrastructure failing under environmental stress, political tensions threatening stability—it can feel as though the foundations themselves are crumbling. Yet the writer of Lamentations knew something of a world in ruins, of systems collapsing and certainties dissolving. What he discovered in the midst of that wreckage was not that calamity would be reversed, but that mercy itself is renewable. The compassions do not run out. They are new each morning, waiting to be recognized and received. On a day when so much feels fragile, there may be something to notice in the ordinary mercies still present: the doctor returning to warn others, the inspector willing to verify compliance, the runner who finishes the race, the neighbor who speaks truth. These are not solutions to the crises, but they are evidence that faithfulness does not wait for perfect conditions.