Thirty-seven
My firstborn will be thirty-seven soon. 37 years.
What does that even mean? What does thirty-seven years feel like? I wish I was clever enough to put some semblance of understanding into words, but I cannot -- because I do not comprehend such a thing.
But I see the number. It tells me that I've celebrated thirty-seven Christmases as a mother filling stockings with surprises and I've enjoyed thirty-seven springtimes with walks in fragrant air. There have been thirty-seven summers of sandy beaches with babes and toddlers and picnics and swimsuits. And for thirty-seven autumns I've lit candles and bought pumpkins and feasted on cold nights warmed with snuggles under blankets. Thirty-seven times I've anticipated ways to make Easter special, to make clear that His glorious Resurrection is paramount to Christianity and our victorious living.
But what is 37 years? I think I am unable to say that I really get it because I'm pretty sure I don't. If someone told me it would feel this way, I would not have comprehended then, even as I fail today. Without counting, without the black and white calendar sitting before me, I would not have understood that 37 years have passed.
So I come to this. This one thing I do know, I do realize: The grass withers, the flowers fade, but His Word lives forever. This I now comprehend as happening, as experienced truth.
Time is fleeting, memories are truly dim and fading, as is my life.
Sadly at times I have realized that I recollect faces from years gone by only because I look at photographs. Without their prompting, I would not clearly see the curly heads, blonde waves, dimpled fingers and smiles. I tried so faithfully to memorize the precious moments, but the frailty of my recall reigns.
Here is what I know. Of this one thing I am sure. Jesus is the promise and hope of eternity. I will trust in Him who created time and me, and I will trust in Him who holds time and me forever in His hands. I cannot grasp the passing of 37 years. I certainly do not pretend to grasp eternity.
But I know Him. I know His love. And that, I'm learning, is enough.
What does that even mean? What does thirty-seven years feel like? I wish I was clever enough to put some semblance of understanding into words, but I cannot -- because I do not comprehend such a thing.
But I see the number. It tells me that I've celebrated thirty-seven Christmases as a mother filling stockings with surprises and I've enjoyed thirty-seven springtimes with walks in fragrant air. There have been thirty-seven summers of sandy beaches with babes and toddlers and picnics and swimsuits. And for thirty-seven autumns I've lit candles and bought pumpkins and feasted on cold nights warmed with snuggles under blankets. Thirty-seven times I've anticipated ways to make Easter special, to make clear that His glorious Resurrection is paramount to Christianity and our victorious living.
But what is 37 years? I think I am unable to say that I really get it because I'm pretty sure I don't. If someone told me it would feel this way, I would not have comprehended then, even as I fail today. Without counting, without the black and white calendar sitting before me, I would not have understood that 37 years have passed.
So I come to this. This one thing I do know, I do realize: The grass withers, the flowers fade, but His Word lives forever. This I now comprehend as happening, as experienced truth.
Time is fleeting, memories are truly dim and fading, as is my life.
Sadly at times I have realized that I recollect faces from years gone by only because I look at photographs. Without their prompting, I would not clearly see the curly heads, blonde waves, dimpled fingers and smiles. I tried so faithfully to memorize the precious moments, but the frailty of my recall reigns.
Here is what I know. Of this one thing I am sure. Jesus is the promise and hope of eternity. I will trust in Him who created time and me, and I will trust in Him who holds time and me forever in His hands. I cannot grasp the passing of 37 years. I certainly do not pretend to grasp eternity.
But I know Him. I know His love. And that, I'm learning, is enough.
posted by Darlene Sinclair at
7:42 AM
3 Comments
