Counting Our Days

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

The In-Between

Lately, it feels like everyone I know is facing something — loss, change, the slow unraveling of plans. We’re not young anymore, but we’re not old-old either. Our friends are becoming grandparents. We go to more funerals than weddings.

That could be what this season really is: learning how to live wisely in the space between what we expected and what we have. It’s sobering. But it’s also clarifying.

This year has been marked by the passing of people I loved — some who shaped my life in significant ways. And yet, in the middle of grief, there’s also been joy: a beautiful wedding that marked the beginning of a new life, and another on the horizon as the youngest generation of our family begins to plan their own futures. Lately, it feels like everyone I know is facing something — loss, change, new beginnings. Maybe that’s what this season really is: we’re finally at an age where we can witness it all unfolding at once. We see the full arc. And somewhere in that awareness, we learn to live wisely in the space between what we expected and what we have.

Learning to Count Right

This morning, Psalm 90 spoke to me again:
“So, teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

It doesn’t tell us to fear our days, cling to them, or make everyone spectacular. It asks us to number them — to notice their passing and hold them sacred. There’s no countdown clock in that verse. Just the quiet invitation to pay attention.

Because wisdom isn’t found in grand awakenings —it’s not a lightning strike —it’s the slow burn of awareness. We gain it through seeing the days we’re actually living instead of racing toward the ones we imagine.

What Wisdom Really Looks Like

When I was younger, I thought wisdom meant understanding everything. Now it means accepting what I will never have.

Wisdom is the quiet recognition that control was always an illusion. It’s grace in the face of uncertainty and tenderness toward your own limits. It’s learning to pause before reacting, to hold what we feel and look at it from all sides before releasing it. Wisdom is seeing through a wider lens, understanding that perspective changes everything.

Some mornings, wisdom looks like getting up anyway. Other days, it’s saying no and meaning it. It’s seeing how fragile people are — including yourself — and choosing compassion over judgment.

Wisdom is the long practice of letting go, one expectation at a time.

Even knowing that, I still wonder what any of it really means.

I know I’m counting the days, but I’m not entirely sure about the wisdom part. I want to think I’m wiser now — that my soul runs deeper than when I arrived. Some days I believe it. Other days, I’m still just figuring it out.

Day by Day

Lately, I’ve been humming the song “Day by Day” from Godspell. Only recently did I learn that it began as a prayer written by Richard of Chichester in the 1200s:

“May I know Thee more clearly, Love Thee more dearly, Follow Thee more nearly, Day by day.”

Eight centuries later, those words still echo the same plea found in Psalm 90: Teach me to number my days, that I may gain wisdom.

It’s not about rushing to do everything before time runs out. It’s about the holiness of showing up — one small act of love, one clear breath, one conscious day at a time.

Today Counts

So, here’s my translation for this chapter of life:

To live more kindly. To breathe more deeply. To follow my truth more clearly. To remember: today counts.

That’s the wisdom of Psalm 90 — not fear but awakening. Not counting how much time is left, but realizing how much life still is.

When you think about numbering your days, what wisdom is life asking you to see right now? Let me hear from you.