918 Days Ago, and Counting

I live with numbers. That’s how I think, and very likely, the analytical mind of my coding days could break down everything to a binary root. On. Off. One. Zero. Nothing is more simple than the binary of life. Alive. Not. Breathing. Not. Thinking. Not. I’ll call you tomorrow. Not.

I carried a little black address book in my wallet with all the phone numbers and contact information for years. It would eventually be destroyed by sweat, and I would painstakingly transfer all those numbers into a new book. Numbers. Names. Here. Then gone. For over 30 years since I did this. My world is now tied up on my phone. Maybe you’re there. I only know it’s a cluttered mess of numbers.

We count down the number of days to a future time, but we count the numbers upwards from our past.

Let me count the numbers backward and keep track as we move forward.

918 Days Ago

Nine hundred eighteen days ago, we started the long journey none of us wanted to travel. We never thought a day like this would come to our doorsteps. These 918 days have not been pleasant. That day began with shock, disbelief, anguish, and frustration. Day Zero. Nothing. The thought does not even exist.

On September 23rd, 2019, doors slammed on the future. The power of loss opened wounds time may never close. Conversations were never completed. Questions begun were never answered. Future plans will never be completed. Everything seems to crumble, but nothing falls away. If anything, it’s like a slag heap under a volcano that keeps bulging upwards.

Are we any different from the untold millions before us that face equally harsh events? No. This happens to be our story. My story.

These 918 days have changed our world. Where we might have thought the future was on our side, it’s obvious God is helping up understand His timing differently. This morning, March 29th, is just a day in history, but my sister was born on the 29th of a different month. Just as I deal with the 13th of any month as unique (I was born on a Thursday, not a Friday!), I’m now forced to think through the 29th with a different thought.

Count The Numbers

Count the numbers, and we were born sequentially, beginning with me. The first baby of the George and Barbara (Simmons/Walters) Gurley clan. I’ve always been proud of my birth year. 1955. A good number, if I ever knew a number. Easy to remember and brag on. After all, 55 was the national speed limit when I got my first car. I nearly didn’t make it! January 13th is so close to 1954 it’s not even funny! Then in February of the following year, Vaughn. Ken was born in June of that 3rd year, and Teresa was born in August of that 4th year. Then. That’s it. The number of siblings stopped. Four.

That means there were always six of us. One hand, and one finger on the other hand. Six. Traveling in a car, and as we aged, one of us had to sit on the front bench seat because long legs don’t treat each other kind on the back seat. But then, the A/C hung under the dashboard as a reminder that many cars were sold without that convenience that we wouldn’t dream of living without today.

Numbers. It’s how I think.

Last Sunday was mom and dad’s 68th anniversary. I’ve always remembered their anniversary, March 27th. Dad’s been gone 803 days. His birthday was the 4th day of the 4th month. Hmmm. I have a brother with the same number but on a different month. Mom will face her next birthday in 32 days.

For me, and it’s been like this for as long as I can remember, it’s all about numbers. We four are now three. Six are now four. The numbers are dwindling, never to be what they once were.

So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalms 90:12 NKJV

It’s My Family

Our family was unique and special. The youngest sibling happened to be a girl—the last one and probably the one we all hung our hope on. I remember pretending to eat from her “kitchen” set in the yard and then remembering she had a private room while we brothers shared. It’s only later I realized how lonely she must have felt being by herself and not experiencing life the way her brothers could, as only boys were prone to do. BB Guns, knives, slingshots, slinking across the room at night to scare each other.

Vaughn became the master of anything he put his mind and hands to – creating art while crafting repairs and building things I wouldn’t even dream of doing. Ken was a connoisseur of music and words. I remember how he liked an album, “Peter and the Wolf.” We all faced some times of rebellion as we tested the waters of the future and knew we had each other to fall back on. But Teresa was alone in much of her growth experience. She had to put up with her older brothers in a way I cannot even imagine.

I want to thank my brothers for being strong during these 918 days. I’ve leaned on you for this more than anything else. My mom has been a champ, showing us that tears and memories go hand in glove, and brighter days soon come.

Ken has a beautiful morning devotion he’s been producing for 1,000 or so days. Good even number, right?! Here’s his from this morning, and I can think of no better way to share than inviting you to listen to him. Youtube and Facebook! Both are below.

Blessings to you as we number our days.

Facebook Link: https://fb.watch/c2QVnA3pru/