No More Days

One Saturday afternoon some months ago, our five-year-old and I were doing puzzles.  Then, with a wild non-sequitor, he said something I will never forget.

He asked: “Papa?  What happens when we have no more days?”

Assuming (correctly) that he was asking about death, I evaded awkwardly.  “You mean…like… when we have no more days in the weekend?  When Monday comes?  Or no more days in this house?  Like when we move back to the US?

I felt panicked.  I could think of nothing to say.

He was thoroughly (and appropriately) underwhelmed.

I surely failed to answer his inquiry that day.  He has, though, asked at other times and in different ways.  My answer has slowly improved.  

And as he asks these questions, I consider the life I want to live before I have no more days.  I pray that my “lived answer” to this challenge is improving also. 

Our son’s questions focus my mind and my guts on the things of ultimate importance, one more way in which he has been God’s grace to me.

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