Some days are special. Weddings, births, adoptions, baptisms, graduations. Milestones, all of them. Special days.
But most days? They’re just days.
In a year, maybe five are really remarkable. Ten if you’re actively looking for it, or in a season where the good is overflowing.
Which leaves anywhere from 360 to 355 days where you go about the business of life without making any real memories. Except …
That’s where the real memories are made.
That’s what you’ll remember when the kids are grown and you’re sitting on the porch wondering if you should get up and fetch your knitting or just enjoy the sun falling across your lap a little longer.
That’s what you’ll look back on the moment the church doors swing open and it’s your little girl on her Daddy’s arm taking the walk that will change all of your lives.
That’s what you’ll see when you don’t have enough whites for a whole load even though it’s been a week.
It won’t be the vacation you pinched and saved to afford. It won’t be the moment you all posed, just so, in front of the perfect Christmas tree you marched up and down a mountain to find.
It will be the hundreds and hundreds of days where you carried groceries into a house where dinner was in the crockpot and the kids raced to grab your legs because, Momma, you were gone forever!
It will be the countless afternoons of perfect autumn sunshine when your husband shrugged off the work he ought to have been doing to enjoy his children.
It will be driving down a rainy road and seeing a tow-headed toddler falling asleep in the rearview mirror.
It will be the sound of your daughter saying, for the millionth time, “I love you, Momma.” Your son whistling while he did his math. The teenager humming “Go Tell It On the Mountain,” when he thinks no one can hear … again.
Any given day is priceless and rare and worth grabbing on to with both hands. That means any given day is special. Count them all.
So teach us to number our days,
That we may present to You a heart of wisdom. —Psalm 90:12
This is so true. My husband and I lately have talked about not needing ‘special’ times. We just need time together.. That is the specialness. I’ll remember more laughing with my mom in the grocery than trying to find a place to go out to eat. Oh ordinary day. What a treasure you are.