Some days I wonder if I’m doing anything right. I stress and lash out and cry. Sometimes those days are back-to-back and they feel never ending. They feel like they will swallow me and consume my entire being. They become me, momentarily.
And then a day of marvellous simplicity and joy comes through. On these days, I am able to choose to laugh, to choose the obvious path that supports my family, and I realise that those bad days aren’t me.
Today was a very good day. (As I type this Esther is entering her second hour of inconsolable crying, but it’s still a really good day). So many opportunities presented themselves where the day could have been derailed and spiral out of control into the chaos abyss that had been the last 48 hours of my emotions. But instead, they were joyous.
The challenges did not consume me, the slip ups did not define me, and the day could only be described as a very good day.
Suddenly I feel like I AM nailing this life that we’ve chosen. I AM capable, strong, and resilient. I just have bad times, and hard times, and a tonne of baggage that weighs me down through it.
Today the baggage was barely noticeable.
Through the derailed plans, the chainsawed seedlings, and the stomped-on plants. Through the tantrum on the road, and the crying baby at the shops, the baggage was barely noticeable.
Through the freshly baked bread, the sunny baby smiles, the ball games, and the water play, the baggage was weighing none of it down. It’s still there, I still know it, and it still knows me, but it does not define me, it does not consume me, and it is not me.
Right now, at the closing of a very good day, I have the hope that tomorrow may be similarly very good. It may be bad, and the baggage may reappear to make it seem catastrophically bad, but today is the proof that tomorrow is a new day with endless possibilities for joy.
May tomorrow be another very good day.