Days Marked in Time

Next to the computer where I am typing this is a kids calendar...it is their calendar. I recognize the lines because one of my daughters does a full "x" while the other marks a simple "/". Each day is faithfully marked off to remind us where we are in the week. The days certainly blur into one another. It is their calendar and they get to write on it and mark it up however they like (as opposed to Bev's day timer that no one gets to write in!) I see sloppy, mistake-ridden writing that reminds us that they have soccer practice (January 13-5:30-6:30), Girls club (January 15) and basketball (January 22). Thankfully, some days have nothing. A respite, a sabbath in our busy weeks. Today was one of those days. I got home early from a meeting and had the chance to go swimming with the girls (note: ending a swimming session in the hot tub without jumping back in the cold pool leads to certain drowsiness).

I ran into some former students at the pool, students I had not seen in years, all of them now in their early or mid 20's. I always want to know what has happened to these students--it is a gift to run into people you never think you will ever see again, and I may never see them again. So I constantly pry and am nosy and say "tell me more" because so many young people lead fascinating lives.

One told me that she is married and recently spent three weeks in Uganda. The other told me she is entering a "Youth Justice" program in college; the other recently got back from Capernwray Bible School in Austria and he is hoping to get his job back working in a cemetary, and the last one has no exotic plans but is content to work hard and make some cash to pay for university next year. They just seemed...very adult. They weren't my students anymore and I can still chuckle when a 25 year old can call me "Mr. B". All great "kids", all suddenly so old. As two of them walked away, I reminded one of them their job, no matter what they do--no matter how exotic or how local or how global--is to simply redeem it. Claim it. It belongs to God. They were just sitting in my grade 8 class. Now they continue their work redeeming God's good but broken creation.

Thinking about that conversation tonight, it suddenly occurs to me that my oldest daugther is only two years away from being their age when I first met them, not long ago. I wonder tonight what that calendar will look like in a year, five years, ten years. How are my own children playing a part in God's redemptive plan, and I pray they will still be working hard at redeeming it when they are 25.

But secretly tonight, as much I as I can find myself thinking about their future, I hope that in 10 years there are still some empty nights on the calendar where we can sit around, like we did tonight, all six of us, drinking hot chocolate talking about our day. A look at the calendar reminds me about simple-machine science projects (January 16), slumber parties (January 23), red cedar book clubs (mondays at lunch) and Friday night basketball (January 30). I will enjoy this while I can.

As I wind this up, I look over at the calendar, and in really messy writing that suggests it is one of my youngest kids, it says something that surprises me. "Obama becumz prezadent."

January 20