Counting Our Days

Sundays tend to bring a bit of longing for home with them. We are not part of a worshiping community here, but we are faithfully doing our daily prayer. If you are looking for a good resource for a daily prayer discipline, then we are enjoying Peter Scazzero's Daily Office.

Even if we did find a church, Sundays would still probably bring some homesickness for us. The community of faith at SOV is not our family necessarily, but more like a completion of our own identities.

But, other than those fleeting moments, we are completely present in this adventure and balancing rest with recreation. We are close to a halfway point and Hannah has counted our days. Counting is a necessity. There are still orang utans and elephants to see. The snake temple and reclining Buddha are also on our list. We are still figuring out what food tickles our palate and which ones make us gag.

Thinking about counting our days, makes me think of Dr. Walter Bouman. He was my dear mentor, professor and friend. When he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he wrote one of the most profound reflections I have read.

“So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart.” 

I’m counting. I’m counting. The surgeon said I have six to nine months. A month later, the oncologist said I have six to nine months. I asked him when to start counting, April 1 or May 1? ‘‘A quibble,” he replied. 


I think of the good things that come with having a date with death, like no more flossing. I experienced far more anguish when my beloved St. Louis Cardinals lost the World Series in four straight games! But even when the Cardinals lose, my greatest source of encouragement is the Christian story of God, into which I was baptized in July 1929. I have bet my living, and now I’m called to bet my dying, that Jesus—not death—will have the last word.

One of the great gifts of sabbatical is that it is a good reminder that the world does perfectly well without me. My hope is not in my own industry or even how well I organize my time. There is no way to suck out all the marrow of life - I'm sorry Thoreau it almost leads to greater despair to try.

We count our days and gain a wise heart when we love the folks around us, make strangers into friends, eat well, laugh and cry hard without the looming fear of death sucking the meaning out of those moments.

There were a couple of moments on the night bus when I looked out the fogged up windshield into the pitch dark as we weaved around cliffs and curves, and the thought crossed my mind that this is how people meet their end. That would have been a bummer, b
ut we all meet our end at some point. We're not taking unnecessary risks, but we are trying to live with the bet that Jesus - not death - will have the last word.