Teach us to...

While at my parents, Tuesday last week, I went to my grandmother's grave for the first time since she died. It was four years ago this month.

With four kids visiting who can eat almost anyone out of house and home, Mom needed a couple things from the store. I volunteered to run out to get them. Half way to the store I realized I was coming up on the cemetery. I had one of those "God tugs" at my heart and knew I needed to go visit my grandparent's grave.

After a hard battle with cancer, my grandfather died the summer I was nine. He meant the world to me. I was devastated when he died. I honestly thought the man worked with God to hang the moon. I could never wait to visit, loved spending summers at his house and basked in the affection he lavished on me. I can still smell the fragrance of his breath and feel the stubble of his ever scratchy chin. It was that autumn when Grandma came to live with us.

Moving in wasn't a big stretch because had she lived just a few yards away in a white mobile home with ugly, mustard yellow shutters for the previous five years. I guess staying there reminded Grandma too much of Grandpa. If he had lived another year, they would have celebrated 50 years of marriage. I know from comments she made in the 20 years to come that she was terribly disappointed they didn't make 50 years.

As I drove through the snow covered cemetery, I wondered what God was up too. I've driven by the cemetery dozens of times over the years. Why visit today? I parked then started up the steps and trudged through six inches of snow in my favorite brown heeled Mary Janes. As soon as my eyes saw the gravestone and fell on their names, something welled up in my heart. I stood there and wept for almost 20 minutes.

It was like I suddenly had x-ray vision. I could see them where they lay six feet under. He in his suit and she in her favorite lavender dress. The reality that they would never utter another word to me until Jesus returns, choked at my throat and stung my eyes. The things I learned and realized about my grandmother two years ago deepened the ache in ways I never dreamed. I have so many questions now. But I may never get the answers. Well, at least not on this side of eternity.

As I looked out on the blanket of white dotted by markers and memories of other people's loved ones, I wondered what God was trying to tell me. As I waited and dried my tears, the words of Chris Rice's song Life Means So Much began to play in my head...

Teach us to count the days
Teach us to make the days count
Lead us in better ways (that)
Somehow our souls forgot

Then I understood. It all made sense.

We are truly but a fleeting breath. I have more questions to ask people in my life. I have discussions to engage in. I have more memories to make with my children and parents and siblings and friends. But more importantly, I need to be seeking God for my life and ministry. I need to ask if the extra things I'm doing are really glorifying to him or filling a need in me. I know I'm going to find both.

We only have so many days to do what God has called us to do. Have we forgotten the better way? Or are we clinging to the grace extended to us to carry out our mission? It's a lot to digest and wrap my mind around. But I know that God will lead me in a better way. I've started counting my days already. I hope that I've started to make more of them count for eternity.

P.S. You can find the rest of the lyrics to Chris' song here.