Jonathan prayed one of those prayers tonight. You know, the kind that break your heart.
He prayed, "Dear Jesus, I pray I will get a loose tooth, and that I will die happily. Amen."
I asked him what it was that made him think to pray he would die happily. His little eyes filled up with tears and he said to me tremulously, "Because I don't want you to be sad."
I gathered him into my arms and told him he wasn't going to die. He said he knew that, but he just was praying about "someday". He informed me that he was still very young, and it was all according to age. That, of course, did not comfort his mommy, who knows better.
We prayed together, again, asking God to take away his fears and help him sleep in peace, and then he trundled off back to bed.
Stunned, I tried to ignore the lead in my stomach. Jonathan is a healthy little boy, for which I'm very thankful, but none of us know how many days God has planned for us to spend on this earth.
Lifting my heart to heaven for the third time, I prayed fervently, "Abba, teach me to count my days..."
So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.