One at a time

I imagine God in Heaven, handing out our days one at a time, like lollipops. We like to think we can grab a whole handful, store them away in some secret place, feeling powerful and eternal. But He only gives out one at a time, measuring the same 24 hours to us all. Days of sun and rain, heat and cold. Days that start bright and turn cloudy, tornado days, tsunami days. Days when babies are born, days when they die before they take their first breath. Days that start cloudy and end sunny, the promotion at work, the wedding bells. He hands one gently to us, we grab it and run away, never thanking Him for the gift. We go back for more before the time, and pout and cry because we don't get what we want. Days are not for hoarding, they are for living. Days are for sharing, not saving. What we gave up one day we get restored the next, what cost us one day rewards us the next. Days are for do-overs, forgiving, persevering. It would be nice, maybe, to know at the beginning how many days we get over a lifetime. It would still be hard when you knew you were running out of them. I imagine God, handing out our days, and I stand humbly before Him, hoping for tomorrow.