Dear 29 Days of the Month,
Sometimes I don’t see the grand design. I think most of us can agree that there are multiple 24 hour stretches of time that just seem full of entropy, missed connections and misunderstood purpose. This letter is to those days. And it seems like there are more challenging days then glory days
Just this week, every member of my family noted at dinner one night that I was being rather “direct” and “no-nonsense” as I delivered instruction on homework, finances and everything in between. I’m all business during days like this preferring transaction over transformation, results rather than relationship.
And it takes me an embarrassingly long amount of time to “cop” to my prickliness, to admit this everything-would-fall-apart-without-me attitude. And maybe you can relate somehow. Please tell me I’m not alone in my mess.
Do you chirp cheerily through each day re-doing what’s been undone in your house/life/office?
Do sing-songy tones erupt out of you as you sort/fold/complete/check AGAIN and AGAIN? You don’t have to answer that.
The 29 Days concept isn’t mine. I heard Dan Hazeltine, lead singer of Jars of Clay on a recent Relevant Podcast saying; “29 days of the month…things just aren’t working out, things are in tension and we don’t quite get what God is doing and we don’t really see what our place is and what humanity is really about…how our story is contributing… that’s where we live life most of the time.” Hazeltine says the band writes their music for those 29 days of the month when things just aren’t quite right.
I get it. And maybe I write to make sense of these same days - the days when things aren’t exactly heaven on earth.(See Hebrews 11:13-16, Romans 8:18, John 17:14-17 for ideas on why some days feel just “meh.”)
But before you permanently throw me into the Eeyor category, I want you to know that the 29 days of the month are important. Why? Because one or two days left in that month feel…
glowy with hope.
ripe with potential.
totally worth the other 29.
There ARE days when I see the plan coming together. These are the days when I CAN understand why I’m wired this way. And days that DO feel purposefully provident. I think it’s a little thing called hope.
Hope shines its light in the darkness in a way that nothing else can. Hope is irrepressible. Hope is contagious. And hope can carry even the most beat down through tough days.
Even during the intervention my family put down on me the other night, I felt a glimmer of hope. I knew deep down that I was super crispy with this 29 day schlog through the “stuff.” And so I saw, even in their timid glances at me while having this “mom, you’ve got to cool it” conversation that they wanted ME back. They weren’t just annoyed at being bossed around. They love it when I’m the most replenished and have a hopeful perspective.
So lift your interweb glass to the hope for better days. Cheers to the hope that does indeed come.
And to you 29 days of the month: I am signing off on this letter. Tomorrow is not one of you.