Measuring Our Days
The cerulean Exam booklet lays on our kitchen table with the questions close beside, and just like that I’m transported back to the anticipation that comes from preparing for a test over an entire semester of learning, and the combined feeling of nerves and excitement that the end is near. The brain maxed out in capacity because of cramming and on the brink of bursting out facts and figures like a balloon ready to pop. For most students this year concludes differently as state tests are waived and finals have been adapted to an at home approach. For my 7th grader, she began her finals today.
As a Homeschool family, we participate in a weekly co-op class with a community that we find beyond valuable for friendship (yes, socialization!) and fellowship, in addition to academic accountability. The Blue Books, as we refer to them, are not simply a means to regurgitate information or circle A, B, C or D, but where they are encouraged to document how much they are have learned by application, synthesis and dialectic discussion.
Most of her answers are in essay form and cover areas that I am quite certain I never covered in all of my years through higher education. In addition, she will draw the entire world (continent, country, land features, oh my!) by memory which is beyond even my wildest imagination. I helped her steady the meter stick to draw latitude and longitude lines on her 24 x 36” paper, and my mind became dizzy with wonder; remarkable doesn’t even begin to describe it. But as I looked at her ruler, her exam book and her gel pen, I couldn’t help but ponder - how do we really measure our days?
When the celebrations are cancelled and the awards kept in boxes, how do we measure the value of our days? How do we measure the countless hours of study, words read or papers written without a ceremony, designation or distinguishing letters accompanying your name?
When national tournaments are gone in a flash with games never played, how do you measure the value of the hundreds of days full of practice, sweat and in some cases tears? The hours spent in cars transporting kids to designated locations for games and practices add up. The hustle. The private lessons to improve. The sacrifice of something so that the other thing can be obtained. But now there are no things. So, what is all of the striving for?
The quarantine season has left us all with a myriad of questions, not the least of which begs us to analyze the way we have become accustomed to stewarding our days.
We know that, even without a year-end celebration, the void makes the year of practice, of hard work, or dedication no less valuable. Friendships formed, sportsmanship developed, and memories made all add up to a well-rounded plate of adolescence. But, something still weighs heavy with me as I analyze our family’s patterns over the past year with growing kids.
It’s arduous to justify the race when life resumes in the Fall, though I feel the tension right along with you. I admit we have gotten caught up in the sports schedules for four kids, meetings for leadership positions, and frantic dinners. Though most of my friends and I have missed the going out and connecting with friends, not many miss the race.
Traditionally, I am someone who struggles with the fear of missing out, and it’s real. Over the past few weeks, I have been amazed at how my heart has been much more peaceful because there isn’t someone on a dreamy vacation, or at a fancy restaurant, or in a cute outfit making me feel like my life is less than. We have all been living the same reality, focusing on the life we have built for ourselves and showing up for the people under our roof, even if it is just you. I’m praying the measurement of what this season is about includes a lasting lesson of what is truly worth running hard after.
When scripture talks about the measurement of our days, it is not accomplishments displayed or wealth accrued. It is not about the square footage of our houses or our number of followers. Because our lives are nothing but a vapor, the measurement always points toward an intentional heart posture focused on living for something that lasts beyond the here and now.
The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever. Isaiah 40:7-8 ESV
Our lives are fleeting, with the threat of a virus or not. We are like the grass or the flowers, here today and gone tomorrow, so how we steward our days matters. What we choose to strive for will define what is left when we are no longer here. That which lasts are those things that are eternal: relationships. Our relationship with God and our relationships with each other. As each of us or our children wrestle through this in the weeks and months to come, may we model what it is like to prioritize a different set of values.
May we remember what we have left after everything else is stripped away.
Let us keep busy and run the race, while keeping our eyes fixed on the one kingdom that is forever.
O LORD, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am! Psalm 39:4 ESV