Being alone with our thoughts is a noisy brutal exercise.
Unmet desires parade across the screen of our mind. Untouchable. Voices speak. Some tell us what we are, others what we are not. In this world of supposed haves and have nots, what we lack becomes what defines us.
A lack of human affection in hand.
A lack of money in the bank.
A lack of purpose in career.
And we feel stuck in a perpetual posture of always reaching yet never grasping. Chasing the American Dream is like chasing bubbles. Through our fingertips it floats off and mockingly lands in our neighbor’s manicured yard in plain sight from our cracked kitchen window.
That dream dangles ever before us. And it’s attached to a string. The string is attached to a stick. And the stick protrudes from our soul; an obtuse and painful reminder of what we don’t possess.
Yet in reality, I have so much. Even on my worst days.
On my worst days I have a beautiful wife who is also my best friend and partner in clowning folks.
On my worst days I have two healthy boy ninjas who play Avengers on the living room floor with me.
On my worst days I have a career I enjoy with an opportunity to impact future generations in a lasting way.
On my worst days I have a roof, clothing, and an abundance of food and water at my disposal.
My worst days, even days of inconsolable longing, ain’t so bad.
Even on my worst days, I’m granted so much more than I deserve.
Especially that grace that just won’t stop. Relentless in its generous affection. Radiating from our elder Brother and Savior who sits and invites us to sit at His Banquet table. This spread surely awaits us regardless of the quality day we’re having right now. The date is saved and sealed with His own bloody ring.
So here’s to our worst days.
We can eat, drink and be merry. For tomorrow we will live to do it forevermore.