A bad day.
Boy, has that definition changed for me.
Here’s what I believe: if you can do something about it, if you can do something to change it, it’s not a bad day. Not even close.
A bad day is losing a child.
A bad day is being assigned to a clinical trial
because you’re out of other options.
A bad day is being burned over 80% of your body.
A bad day is having surgery because
radiation destroyed parts of your body.
Those are bad days.
The rest of it? Trivialities.
I know people who hang on to resentments and judgments.
Who have stopped speaking to their former spouses. To family members.
People who think anyone different than they are has to be wrong.
They haven’t figured out that’s not why we’re here. We are here to connect.
We don’t fully live until we get
that we absolutely are our brother’s keeper.
That it is a privilege to do for others
and a gift to let others do for us.
That it’s a blessing to reach out
to make sure those going through trials
know they are not alone.
And as important to be sure they know it
even when times are good.
They don’t get that it’s love that holds us together,
that shelters us from the storm.
That’s what really matters.
Love. And only love.
There’s absolutely no need to waste any bit of the precious time we’re given.
To make life harder than it needs to be for ourselves or others.
We’re here to love.