Don't Wait for a Crisis to Number Your Days

Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12

Months ago, I noticed something was off.

At first, it alarmed me a little. Then I did what many of us do—I ignored it. I didn't have the bandwidth to worry about it, so I pushed it to the back burner and convinced myself it was probably nothing. Months passed, and it continued to nag at me. I knew something wasn't right.

Eventually, I mentioned it to a friend as one of those lingering worries sitting in the back of my mind.

She looked at me and said, "So what you're telling me is that you're calling your doctor tomorrow morning and making an appointment, right? And then you're texting me to tell me when it is. Right?" I rolled my eyes and laughed. She was right.

"Yes, mooooom," I joked.

But underneath the laughter, I was sweating. Suddenly, the reality that something could actually be wrong smacked me in the face. This was the feeling I had been avoiding for six months.

The next morning, I called.

"Yes, I have this issue. I should probably get it checked out."

"How long have you noticed it, ma'am?"

"Oh... about six months."

Silence.

"Let's get you in tomorrow."

Tomorrow? This doctor never gets me in that quickly. Fear started gnawing at my heart again.

After that appointment, my doctor ordered scans and ultrasounds. I wasn't imagining things like I had convinced myself I was. Something really did seem off. She noticed it too.

Then came the waiting.

Those few days before the tests felt impossibly long. Anxiety and fear took up residence in my mind. I kept telling myself, It's going to be fine, but questions kept pushing their way in.

What about my kids?

What about my husband?

What about...

What I didn't realize at first was that I was also carrying the grief of losing my best friend.

She died far too young from cancer—before she had finished building her life. Death feels distant when it only happens to other people. It feels like something that belongs in someone else's story. Until it comes close. Until it takes someone you love. Then the reality that our days are numbered no longer feels theoretical. It feels personal.

The appointment day finally arrived. I went alone because I'm weird and needed space to process whatever I might be facing before I processed it with anyone else. I had no idea what was waiting for me, but I knew that by the end of the appointment, I'd have some answers.

The tests were completed. The scans were done.

And I was...fine.

The worst fears that had been pounding on the door of my heart simply disappeared. No diagnosis. No bad news. Just:

"Great news, Mrs. Terry! We can't find anything. You're free to go."

It felt like an elephant had been lifted off my chest. And then a strange question entered my mind.

Now what?

It was as if I had been handed a freedom I didn't expect to have. And I didn't quite know what to do with it.

Why am I telling you this story?

Because when we're facing a diagnosis or some other crisis, it's easy to number our days. We're forced to confront the reality that our lives are finite. We won't live forever. Crisis has a way of making that impossible to ignore. But now that I'm no longer facing a diagnosis or crisis, I've found it surprisingly easy to slip back into the assumption that I have all the time in the world. I would never say, I'll live forever. But sometimes I live like I believe it.

I put off conversations.

I delay trips.

I postpone time with people I love.

I tell myself, I'll get to that later.

But if I truly believed my days were numbered, would I keep putting those things off? That verse from Psalms has been circling in my mind:

Teach us to number our days...

Not force us.

Teach us.

I don't want to wait for a crisis to remind me what matters. I want God to teach me to number my days while life is still ordinary. Why?

...that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

Because I want to live the life God intended for me. I want to love the people He has placed in my path. I want to be quick to forgive and generous with grace. I want to live with gratitude and joy. I want to spend my life investing in things that will matter long after I'm gone. I want to honor the Lord with the days He's given me. I want to walk closely with Him in this life and spend eternity with Him in the next. I want a heart of wisdom.

Don't wait for a diagnosis to open your eyes to your own mortality. Don't wait for a crisis to remind you that your days are a gift.

Our days are numbered. And not all of us get eighty years. Some, like my dear friend, are given only thirty. Some are given even less. But the truth is that no matter how many days we have this side of heaven, if we can number them here, gain a heart of wisdom, and live as Christ…we gain eternity. Unending days forever and ever amen.

And I want that. I want that for me, for my children, for my family, for my friends, for everyone. I have a limited number of days to help the people around me gain eternity too.

The question is:

How will I spend my days?

And how will you spend yours?

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12