Teach Us to Number Our Days

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

The end of summer brings a new school year with its own challenges. It takes a few weeks to settle back into earlier mornings and earlier bedtimes. As lunch accounts run low and tensions run high, I am trying to keep one foot in front of the other until routine settles in and life normalizes.

This year, I am sending three kids to school. While my three middle kids (all girls) stand at bus stops, my youngest stays home with me. As I send one to high school, one to middle school, one to elementary school, and one to the naughty chair, my oldest son is employed full-time. Technically an adult, my eighteen-year-old is now a high school graduate.

As I reflect on all the happenings of this past summer and number our days, one particular event comes to the forefront. It was nothing flashy, just a conversation. I shouldn’t even call it a conversation; it was more of a monologue. My oldest son and I had hopped in my van to return the last of his high school belongings—his computer and graphing calculator. As we headed home, my son was struck by the sudden realization that high school was over. “Man, I’m going to miss high school,” he blurted out.

While I drove, my son talked as if to no one at all. He recalled being an anxious freshman—a small fish in a big pond of hallways and lockers. He told me about other students, friendships from middle school that had fizzled away, and new friends he hoped would stay in touch. He talked about teachers and classes—those he enjoyed and those he could hardly tolerate. He admitted that he wouldn’t mind having just one more year of high school. I drove in a trancelike state as my normally reserved son showed a vulnerability I’d never been witness to.

I’ve had all summer to reflect on that car ride and my son’s high school journey. As I consider the last four years, I realize that I have accidentally learned a lot. A few key things come to mind:

 

1. Endings are sad.

Whether it’s the last day of summer vacation, the last episode of a beloved sitcom, or the last spritz of your favorite perfume, endings are a downer. Saying goodbye to the family home is hard, even if you are making a hard-earned and well-deserved upgrade into a better house. Sending your baby to preschool is hard, even if you have been eagerly anticipating the peace and solitude. Endings are usually sad, even the good ones.

2. Saying yes to one thing means saying no to another.

Life is filled with choices. Like the proverbial cake that beckons us either to eat it or have it, life demands decision-making. The trickiest part? All too often, choice A and choice B are mutually exclusive. My son is smack-dab in the middle of this phenomenon right now. He can get an apartment with a buddy or continue to live at home. On one hand, life is short—he should take the opportunity to be young and free. On the other hand, living at home would allow him to move into the future on a stronger financial footing.

3. There is no such thing as an inconsequential decision.

 

Like a flow chart where one choice points to another, the choices we make today dictate the outcomes of tomorrow. It is a cruel irony that some of our most life-altering decisions must be made by our most inexperienced selves.

4. The days drag but the years fly.

Over the last four years, there were some very long days. Days when it seemed that life had taken twenty-four hours and stretched them into forty-eight. But the thing about life is that all those long days, when strung together, are over before you know it. Each square on the calendar might drag, but the pages turn so quickly. High school felt like an eternity that was over in the blink of an eye.

5. It’s going to be OK.

He made it; he graduated. We had our moments, times when my husband and I wondered if he would pull it off. We had a few scares. We always knew he could, but would he?

 

I sure could have used some encouragement during those trying years. I could have used someone to prophesy a date in the not-so-distant future when I would be ordering his cap and gown and pricing out class rings.

My son’s high school years were a wonderful and stressful period of growth, not just for him but for me. After that surreal car ride, as we were pulling into the garage, I said to my son, “You did it, kid.” We did it. We both grew, almost in spite of ourselves.

I might have learned more as the mother of a high schooler than I did as a high schooler myself. My homework now is to keep these lessons in mind as I attempt to parent four others to their own Pomp and Circumstance. If I do well, we will number our days mindfully.

Amy Beaulieu lives in Michigan with her husband and four (soon to be five!) children. She is a lover of music, language, and all things thought-provoking. She is a witness and testimony to God’s redemptive grace.

Photograph © Annie Spratt, used with permission