counting moments

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

The pile of packed boxes is growing. Time is thinning. I notice the shrinking days in a variety of ways. For example, all of our library books are now due “post move date.” Although there are distinct feelings of loss and sadness that have shown their faces over the last several weeks, overall I have found this last month to be one of my favorites. The opportunity to truly “count your days” is often infrequent. As a child I remember counting down to summer break, to my birthday, to a special vacation. As an adult I recall counting down the months and days to college graduation, our wedding, the birth of our children, our move to Idaho. . . While these are all celebratory in nature, many people also experience counting down after they receive news of a poor health prognosis or a foreclosure on a home or loss of a job.  Whether the reason appears positive or not, we are given a unique gift when we are able to number our days.

It’s unfortunate, but often we reserve sharing the feelings hidden in the deep recesses of our hearts for times of departure. Sometimes we are better at living out intentional goodbyes than we are at living out our in-between days. I have found that to be true this month. The process of counting down how many days we have left in this home, in this town, in this season of life has forced us to savor the routines that can easily slip though the cracks unnoticed, unappreciated if not seen though the lens of finality. Along with the expected packing, sorting, giving away and selling of stuff, our month has been filled with spontaneous visits with friends, ice cream outings, bike rides to collect milk, and sleeping bag sleepovers. Things that might normally not have happened in the name of routine or convenience, have been embraced in the name of relationships and memory making. It can be easy to say “no” if we feel we have endless time. I’ve enjoyed living in the “yes” lately.
Last week I finished reading “Charlotte’s Web” to my kids. Toward the end of the book {spoiler alert} before she dies, Charlotte reflects, “After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die.” It reminded me that having a life isn’t nearly as significant as impacting one. Making an impact often requires making each moment count. After all, the moment, is the only place we really have impact anyway.

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