Two jars of marbles rest on our family bookcase. When I first placed them there, only one held the marbles while the other was empty. The empty jar appeared benign. It spoke of time to spare and room for more, but as the weeks and years went by I now sadly admit that is no longer the truth. Certainly, the old saying has been proven that "time and tide do not wait for no man" - not even for this momma.
We knew and understood the routine. As each week would pass, we would habitually move one glass representation from the jar that was full to place within the one that originally held none, and as things tend to do, almost without notice, the empty jar became equal to its partner, then one day shockingly, surpassed its number.
Now only 30 remain.
Only 30 remain of what was once many and there is no way to retrieve and start the process over for there are only 30 left before this family of five morphs into a different version of itself.
Oh, it's a good version. Actually, a great one. You cannot be sad when there is too much to be happy for, but the mourning of what was must be felt before you embrace what will be. For you see, all we have are 30 Saturdays before our oldest graduates and begins his new venture into becoming more of the man God desires him to be.
We've been counting down the weeks with marbles and now the marbles are claiming us.
Only 30 weeks left. Only 30 times to move those last marbles.
God, thank you for the marbles. Help us make the last of them count.
So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.