what's next?

"What are we doing tomorrow, Mommy?" My oldest daughter asks me this question nearly every night. It's one of many questions asked as we are flirting with the dangerous topic of bedtime, but it's the only question that really sets my teeth on edge.

I don't want to think about tomorrow yet. I'm not finished with today: it's only 8:00pm and I still have dishes and laundry to do, phone calls to make, emails to answer.

I also dread the question because she will then want to negotiate tomorrow's activities right then and there, instinctively knowing that I don't have the intestinal fortitude at that time of night to argue. I will agree to almost anything. And she doesn't forget anything.

Next day after school, it's "You said last night we could go to Target after school! You said!" I did? I guess I did.

Some parenting experts say that preparing children for the next activity or event in their day helps smooth out the transition process. I think perhaps I overdid it, wanting to prepare my firstborn adequately. "Okay, honey, after we eat lunch we're going to read books then take a nap, okay? Now eat your sandwich." After a while it became apparent that she didn't engage in nearly any activity wholeheartedly without anticipating the next one. We'd be 5 minutes into a favorite TV show and she'd say "when this is over, I'm going to watch the next show."

I know, I know, part of this is an age phase, part of it is just being a kid. But part of it is the human desire to be in control of our future, planning out every minute so we are prepared, not surprised. We desire the proverbial crystal ball. We guess at outcomes. We anticipate. We hope.

Reading from the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes, you see that the writer speaks to the pursuit of hopes and expectations as "meaningless." Read through the pessimistic renderings ("Everything is meaningless!" "This, too, is meaningless, a chasing after the wind!" "Everything to come is meaningless!") and you wonder if the writer is simply working through a deep depression. Yet the writer is not saying life is meaningless because we can't control it. He comes out of this pit of despair to share the affirmation that life without God is meaningless.

Then I realized that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to
find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of
life God has given him—for this is his lot. Moreover, when God gives any
man wealth and possessions, and enables him to enjoy them, to accept his lot and
be happy in his work—this is a gift of God. He seldom reflects on the days of
his life, because God keeps him occupied with gladness of heart.
Ecclesiastes 5:18-20, NIV.

I wish that for my daughter, to be "occupied with gladness of heart" and accept her lot and enjoy her days instead of looking longingly into the future. Jesus wishes that for me, and you as well.