On Friday I wrote about how I wondered about my legacy after the death of a young man from our church. The other direction my thoughts spiraled was to his parents. There was no warning that Saturday would be his last. No chance to say good-bye.

My heart broke for them — not for the young man.

And I began to wonder…how would my parenting change if I knew I only had so many more days, months, years with my children?

We aren’t guaranteed a certain number. The one guarantee I have is that when the day comes, it arrived because God allowed it.

Would I be more fun? Would I slow down? Play more? Read another book? Care less about whether she gets 100% the first time she’s introduced to algebra? Ease up on my insistence that he pronounce every word correctly?

I already ask God to help me pull the gifts and talents He’s placed in my children to the surface. To reveal to me His plans and purposes for them. But would I spend more time praying I’d speak life into them? That I would accelerate their dreams rather than see all the ways they can’t come true?

I don’t know for sure. But I’m praying that God would show me the right balance. To be a Mom who parents for eternity while never taking one day with my children for granted.