13,870

“Will my days testify to my faith and serve as an example of the reward of knowing Christ? Will my days be a lasting example of the goodness of God, even when life was hard?”

“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12 ESV) 

My son turned eight a few weeks ago. Eight. It feels so old to me. How did my newborn become a boy, a kid, overnight?! The week before his birthday, I stayed home from work to take both of our kids to the doctor. I don’t get to be the one to do this very often because I am a teacher, and substitutes are practically non-existent right now. Because of this, I sometimes enjoy when I get to be the one at home on a sick day. My son and I spent a lot of time on the couch that day snacking, resting, and my most favorite, talking. Since his upcoming birthday was on his mind, Parker asked me a question: “Mama, how many days old am I? Like, how many days have I been alive?”

I have never thought to calculate this before, so we huddled together and used the calculator on my phone to answer his question. 2,920 days.

“Whoooooaaaaa! How many days has Avery been alive?!”

1825 days.

“What about you, Mama?!”

13,870.

“And dad?!”

13,505.

“Ok, what about Mamaw?”

31,755.

“Whoooooa, Mama! That is a lot of days!”

And it hit me- it was a lot of days. The number between his and mine seemed astronomical. The number between mine and my Mamaw’s even more so. My throated knotted up as I considered all the days that still lie ahead for my children- for me. What will their days look like? How many will be full of overflowing joy, of heartache, of victories, of losses? And what about mine? How many have I already wasted on meaningless things- on fear and anxiety, on chasing a form of perfection or a number on a scale, on scrolling social media on my phone, on not truly living? Seeing my number made me realize how many opportunities I have already been given, and it convicted my heart. It served as a stark reminder that time is passing more quickly than I realized.

None of us can know the final number of our days. Sometimes it seems that they individually go by so slowly. But then we look up and suddenly the days have morphed into years. I am so guilty of becoming resentful, yes resentful, of all I have to get done in a day instead of viewing each new morning as a gift. A gift wrapped up with things I get to do, people I get to love and get to take care of for a season. A life I get to live. If I have the honor of living to be 100, what an incredible number of opportunities I still have before me to live out my days the right way.

What exactly do I want my days to say?

That I believed the Lord.

That I loved Him.

That I loved people.

That I had joy.

What will my children say about me one day when they are snuggled up on the couch to count days with their own babies? What testimony will outlive my number, speaking long after I am gone? Will my days testify to my faith and serve as an example of the reward of knowing Christ? Will my days be a lasting example of the goodness of God, even when life was hard? I desperately hope so, with everything in my heart. Here’s our hope: in Christ, we can make sure of it. Because every morning is a new mercy. Every morning, a new gift, wrapped and waiting for us to open. What do you want your days to say? Let them say it now.