"The days are long, but the years are short."
I'll bet you've heard that many times, haven't you? Sometimes upon hearing them you dab your eyes; other times you roll them. I know.
Here's a photo of what was going on in my life exactly 19 years ago:
My baby boy was born. My last baby. This photo was taken when he was less than five minutes old.
Now he has lived nearly 10 million minutes.
10 million.
Millions of minutes of everything that goes into a life--eating and sleeping and laughing and crying. Thousands upon thousands of minutes of listening and talking and yelling. Hundreds and hundreds of minutes of walking and running and falling and getting back up, of mess-making and fighting and cleaning up and making up.
Layered into those minutes of living have been many minutes of pain. Illnesses and injuries have left scars. Broken bones and broken hearts are part of the record.
So many minutes.
I've had the privilege of being part of these minutes. Some of them seemed to flash by in an instant; some seemed to stretch for hours.
Some of the minutes I wanted to capture forever in my memory; others I'd honestly rather forget.
Some minutes I was a wonderful mother to my "baby" boy; other moments I was a dreadful parent.
No doubt about it: I have left undone those things which I ought to have done, and I have done those things which I ought not to have done.
Yet our good and merciful God has taken all those minutes--the good and the bad, the glorious and the frightful, the momentous and the mundane--and fashioned them into a blessed life.
And in God's good and merciful hands, none of those minutes is wasted. Some have been painful, but nothing is wasted.
My baby boy has grown into a young man. I thank God for every minute of his life.
How about you? Have you ever counted the minutes of someone's life?
