So teach us to number our days that we may gain a wise heart.
In the past few months, I’ve reflected on age. A lot. My husband recently turned 60, and I guess I never thought I’d be old enough to be married to a 60 year old man. I’m pretty sure he never thought he’d be a 60 year old man either. Of course, that’s just a chronological number, as evidenced by his glee at daily jaunts on his electric skateboard, slaloming through the Portland streets. Regardless of the inside age though, the calendar does not lie, and age creeps up on us.
When I worked in a Seattle suburb as assistant city manager, the mayor at the time was 72. He relayed a story that he frequently looked in the mirror and wondered who that old man was looking back at him. Yes! I see myself and I feel in my bones just like I did 20, 30, even 40 years ago. Sometimes, I’m a little creakier, but not enough to feel old. It genuinely feels like time has zipped by. Just yesterday I was heading off to college, getting married, raising a family, sending the kids off. Looking back, time goes so fast.
Looking forward though, it doesn’t seem like it will come quickly, and that’s nice. In another 2 months, I expect I’ll be living in Pittsburgh, having sold a house, and moved. I’ve no idea how it will all sort out, but luckily, it doesn’t feel like the time is barreling down. Clearly it’s marching forward, but I’m not anxious about all that needs resolution in that time. Looking out the windshield, time doesn’t move as quickly as it does looking in the rearview mirror.
And that’s a good thing, mostly. It’s helping me not feel anxious or nervous about what’s ahead. But on the flip side, we tend to take our todays and tomorrows for granted, much more than we cherish our yesterdays. I don’t know what the next ten years will hold, but it’s really startling to think that my mother died when she was about 10 years older than I am now. Few of us know when we’re going to die, but thinking about my mom, I absolutely want to learn to number my days.
Looking in the rearview mirror, there are some major mile markers I’ve passed, but they don’t measure days or months or even years. They measure seasons. For example, I don’t know what November 1995 looked like, what I was doing, or how I was feeling. I could cobble together a likely story, given addresses, jobs and kids’ ages. But moving forward, I want to be able to measure and cherish November 2021, and November 2022, and all other months and years.
I suppose I could do this by daily journals to record my todays. But I’m not as concerned about where I was or what I was doing, as much as I am concerned to know that I am living in each today as it comes. Rather than journaling, perhaps that’s more about daily gratitude and contentment, regardless of what I’m doing or where I am. That way, I can look back and know that I spent my days as presently as I could.
This morning, I’m thinking about a way to number my days without freaking out about how many are left!
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