It's night again, and my mind is working overtime to chase away sleep. I toss and turn, and amidst the inner voices this thought prevails: Life is short.

Honestly, it hurts to face the facts so squarely, but every slip of the hourglass adds urgency to the message. My life right now blossoms with promise, and I am easily moved by both joy and fear for the future. But soon, so soon each scene on the stage will come to an end. For a few seconds the drama will flicker and dance to life, and then it will cease. The wind will blow, and the play and players will be gone.

As I lay in bed trying to compose my brain for sleep, I began to think of the things that this finite life is bringing to a close. "Hey everyone," Jon Foreman says in a song, "I've got nowhere to go/The grave is lazy/He takes our bodies slow..." And this is how I feel some times. Yes, the progress is slow at times, yet what is everything in this life ultimately doing but moving towards the grave? The relationships of today have 24 less hours to live than yesterday. The career that may come in the future is already a week closer to closing than last Monday showed it. The opportunities yet to be grasped are already a year fewer than they were last summer.

And lest I be accused of fatalism, let me assure my readers that I know this isn't the whole story. But tonight this is where the train of thought has taken me. A journey down this mental path that Solomon trod ages ago: the conclusion that life, too, will pass, and "everything that is to come will be futility" (Ecc 11:8).

So here is my list: things the grave is taking. For now I have:

a finite number of times to look at the stars, to sneak outside on a cloudy night and listen for wind in the leaves.
a finite number of times to hug my sister.
a finite number of drives to take singing in the car, or praying, or watching the earth rise and fall.
a finite number of licks on the chin from Rosie.
a finite number of coffees to drink, or cups of tea enjoyed with Mom over a good Psalm, or good book, or good life.
a finite number of nights to spend with Ben, watching videos, or playing guitar and ukulele.
a finite number of weddings left to go to in my life.
a finite number of times that I will ever again curl up on a couch and read C.S. Lewis or Jane Austen.
a finite number of songs to listen to with my older brother.
a finite number of times to talk about salvation with my father.
a finite number of inside jokes to share with my boyfriend or smiles to share with my girlfriends.
a finite number of people left for me to tell about the gospel.
a finite number of conversations to have at all.
a finite number of nights to stay awake reading or writing. After tonight - there will be one less.

and yet...

a finite number of days til those same stars give way to the Morning. (II Pet 1:9)
a finite number of hours until the Bridegroom comes. (Rev 19:7)
a finite number of breaths til sorrow flees forever. (Isa 51:11)
and a finite number of moments til futility itself is swallowed in victory. (Rev 19:6)