I read Psalm 90 this morning. It was a little hard to concentrate with “There’s a Hole in the Bucket” droning on and on in the background, but verse 12 made me pause.

“So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom.”

That verse is so familiar. It’s been underlined in my Bible for who knows how long. But it caught me this morning.

These days I’m in feel endless, sometimes in good ways, sometimes in bad. They are overwhelming and frustrating, and at the same time they are so full of laughter and joy. Surely there will always be a naughty toddler saying so sweetly, “I yike it,” when he has something he’s not supposed to have. Surely there will always be a fat, little boy giggling every time I let water from a cup touch his lips. Surely there will never come a night that a little voice doesn’t call for me. Surely there will never come a day that I don’t write down a memory or snap a quick picture of these darling boys.

For some reason, numbering my days feels so foreign right now.

Maybe it’s the same reason that applying my heart to wisdom also feels a bit foreign. And maybe the way to fix one is with the other.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom."

“O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days . . . Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us: and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.” (Psalm 90:14,16-17)