The Blessing of Numbering Our Days

Day 12,244. We are crouching on the shore of the Atlantic Ocean, and the tide washes the sand off our feet. I hold out a plastic cup we brought to play with, and my son grabs a handful of wet sand and starts to fill, dump, and repeat. I don’t know what game we’re playing, but I’m going to call it “Scoop.”

His second time at the beach looks a lot different from his first just a year ago. So much change takes place in those first few years of life. And as we watch our children grow and take care of their daily needs, we can forget that we, too, are aging as well.

Letters written by older women to young moms are going viral on social media these days, and sometimes I will get sucked in and turn up the volume or dial into reading their posts. The message is generally, “These are ‘the good ole days,’ don’t waste them, and one day you’ll want them back.” But that’s a message we hear throughout each stage in our lives- childhood, high school, college, newlyweds, and now the little years. So according to those open letters, this is the peak, as if it all goes downhill once my children are older and no one can fit in my lap anymore.

Sometimes when I come across these pieces of advice I think, you must have had a different experience than what I am having. Perhaps babies slept better back then, and kids didn’t get sick as much. The advice can also come across as an indicting finger to someone struggling with postpartum depression or infertility. But what we can glean from their perspective is that life really is a blip. Scripture teaches us that our lives are a “mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes,” and, “We know not what tomorrow may bring” (James 4:14).

In Psalm 90 Moses writes, “So teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom.” While I can’t live in my thirties as a 90-year-old woman, I can start numbering. So, every now and then I will look up how many days I have been alive and think about the brevity of life. Because these days, engulfed in those “little years” that all the older women write open letters to me about, are more difficult than I expected. I thought I’d have a bit more energy and not be nearly as sinful. 

Thinking eternally is not a foreign concept for the believer. But as the days go by and the cares of this world try to choke out the Word, it can become harder for us to actually put it into practice. My four-year-old speaks of Heaven as if we could be going there tomorrow, and I think she’s right in doing so. I find if I am not intentionally thinking eternally, I can drift into the worldly assumption that my goal here is to age out on earth, to put off death as long as possible, and live to make myself happy.

Where the rubber meets the road for my faith is being able to confidently respond, “Yes,” to the question of whether I truly believe that today is a gift. And if so, how should my attitude follow suit- in a sink of dirty dishes, a toddler who still doesn’t sleep through the night, and a home cooked meal that my little ones predecided they were not going to like. I think the secret is to cultivate an eternal perspective as I remember tomorrow is not promised, and “the good ole days” lie beyond the grave for the believer.

John Flavel once wrote, “If we could sprinkle the dust of the grave upon our minds, it would prevent many sins and miscarriages in our words and actions.” Thinking in light of eternity affects how we live out our faith.  When we put this into practice, we develop daily habits of putting off sin and putting on Christ. We learn to trust God when things do not go our way and to not sweat the small stuff. It reminds us that we live in a fallen world and cannot expect Heaven on earth. We become content with a life of ordinary faithfulness and store up treasure where moth and rust do not destroy. We make the best use of our time because the days are short. And we cling to the promise of a better world when life gets hard.

Practically, this starts in the little things. Numbering my days means I’d be more willing to use these hands that haven’t started getting arthritis to sew up a baby doll sock or wipe up the yogurt splatter from the floor without getting frustrated. I would give thanks for the good health days and not take them for granted. I would more attentively “Watch this Mommy,” and even smile or laugh about it. A dinner that didn’t go as planned would still be food to offer in thanksgiving. Another night of interrupted sleep- but there’s eternal rest in heaven. I would lean into what The Lord is trying to teach me now and not try to kick so hard against the goads.

If longevity proves to be a dominant gene in my family, and I live to see 34,000 days, I pray that I would have thanksgiving for aging, as it is what brings us closer to eternity. I pray I wouldn’t be pining for the past or think of it with much regret but be excited to see the face of Christ and be made like Him. I hope to look back at the pictures of my children still with pacifiers and wearing diapers and not think, Time, you thief, but rather, Time, you gift. 

And, if I am tempted to pen one of those open letters to a young mom, young lady feeling the weight of her singleness, or a bride who has been waiting years to one day hold a baby of her own, I think the theme of my message would be, “Those are the years I learned to trust God, and He hasn’t failed me since.”

Charles Spurgeon once said, “You will, amidst the splendors of eternity, forget the trials of time or only remember them to bless the God who led you through them and works your lasting good by them.” Sixty years from now, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to recall the exact moments of Day 12,244- walking across the sand with two little ones squeezing my index fingers, or the chaos that ensued while waiting on our pizza at dinner that night. But I do know both moments were intended to prepare me for glory.

“So we do not lose heart, though our outer selves are wasting away, our inner selves are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary afflictions are preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but what is unseen. For what is seen is transient, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).