Counting the days, and making them count

How do you build a life where every day is worth remembering? 

This week’s parsha recounts the passing of Sarah and Avraham, the founding couple of the Jewish people. When describing Avraham’s later years, the Torah uses an unusual expression: “V’Avraham zaken ba-bayamim” (Avraham became old; he came along in days.) 

On the surface, it sounds like a simple description of ageing. But the phrase ba-bayamim, that he “came with his days”, hints at something deeper. Our sages explain that Avraham brought every one of his days with him. Each day had been used intentionally. Each day counted. He didn’t just accumulate years; he accumulated days filled with purpose. 

Most of us would love to live that way, yet we often feel pulled in the opposite direction. Daily life can feel like a blur. We run from one task to the next: work deadlines; kids’ schedules; errands; emails; and WhatsApp messages. Layer onto that the pressure to succeed, to be appreciated, to meet expectations – our own and that of others. Even when things are going smoothly, our minds drift toward worry: 

“What if this doesn’t last?”; “Am I doing enough?”; “What if I fall short?” 

We are surrounded by noise – financial concerns; social pressures; responsibilities – all tugging for our attention. It’s hard to feel the meaning of each day when we’re weighed down by yesterday’s disappointments or tomorrow’s anxieties. 

Perhaps this is another lesson we can take from Avraham. His life was anything but simple. He endured displacement, famine, conflict, spiritual opposition, family strain, and uncertainty. Yet the Torah testifies that he came with his days – none were wasted. Each day he treated as an opportunity for meaning and purpose. He didn’t let the past define him or the future paralyse him. He showed up fully to the day he was living. 

Maybe this is the secret of a life of goodness: not that we achieve perfection, but that we are present on the day in front of us. We can’t control tomorrow. We can’t rewrite yesterday. But we can choose how to live today. 

There are so many small, yet profound ways we can do this: greeting someone warmly even when we’re hurried; carving out five minutes to pray or learn; listening with patience; offering help quietly when no one expects it; acting with integrity even when it’s inconvenient. A meaningful life is built from days like these. 

Some of the most powerful acts happen quietly: responding with kindness where there could have been irritation; choosing faith where there could have been fear; giving encouragement when someone needed it most. These choices create a life of days worth bringing with us. 

Don’t worry about what you can’t change – yesterday or tomorrow – ask: what good can I bring into the world today?