This is the day the LORD has made; We will rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm 118:24
We humans are peculiar beings. Many of us spend our youth wishing to be older because we desire some freedom or privilege not yet afforded. Then we turn right around and spend our older years wishing to be young again because those privileges come with responsibilities we did not realize. I could not wait to turn sixteen and start driving. Then I could not wait to turn eighteen, so I could move out on my own and make all my own decisions (what a shock that turned out to be). Now, I realize how I wasted those years because I did not fully appreciate that every day is a gift from God.
The brevity of life as set forth in the Bible has taught me to cherish every day (Job 7:7; James 4:13-15). As a husband, I realize the time I have with my precious wife is getting away from me far too quickly. As a father, I no longer want to fast-forward past those difficult days when training the children is tiresome for us and them. As a Christian, I no longer take those times of fellowship for granted because one-by-one, we all will drop out of those conversations far too quickly. As a minister, I find greater urgency because the opportunities are so limited. I could go on with these illustrations and applications, but I want to share this poem a woman named Jessica Urlichs wrote to her husband about cherishing every moment with those we love. Though its focus is husbands and wives regarding their children, it is an apt reminder of what we have been discussing above. Let us always remember the Lord made this day, be where our feet are, and not waste another precious moment of time.
Dear Husband, The Future Can Wait:
There’s a life in the future with little faces in photo frames instead of before our eyes, and artwork and abc magnets won’t adorn our fridge. There’s a bed big enough, where little elbows and knees won’t prod us in our sleep, and only our feet will swing out in the morning. There’s a vase placed in reach of little arms because there aren’t any, and mugs will daringly sit on the edge of the table. There’s a bank balance that looks a bit more forgiving and a bag I leave with that isn’t overflowing. There’s a free calendar that isn’t packed with swimming lessons, dance classes and muddy sports shoes. And we’ll get to know each other for a third time, before them, with them, and then when only two jackets hang at the door. There’s a clean car, the only noise is the hum of the radio. There will be no endless questions in a high-pitched voice from the back seat, there may even be days we don’t hear from them at all. There’s a date night with no curfew, my mum’s not needed for babysitting, and we aren’t sleeping with one eye open waiting for the shuffle of feet down the hallway. A type of freedom that feels heavy. There’s a house that’s clean, maybe our couch is new, we aren’t stepping on Lego or toy cars either. In fact, there’s not much color anywhere. Remember how it came with so much happiness? There’s a dinner table that feels big, we aren’t negotiating bites of vegetables or wiping little hands and mouths. But sometimes there’s a knock on the door and the table is full once more. There’s a shower that doesn’t sound like baby cries, a coffee that is warm, and my body will be my own. We won’t wear tired the same way, but time will have aged us anyway. There will be hard moments to come that will make these moments look easy, but we’ll remember. We’ll remember the first words, the curls, the “I love you’s”, the moments we almost broke, and how we held each other through it all. There’s a life in the future and it’s coming for us. So, let’s get swept up in the beautiful chaos in front of us. Let’s make the future wait a little longer. Because I love this life with you so much, this one right now.