Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Good Days, Bad Days

There are really good days. Like when it's 60 degrees and you take your little buddies to the park and for ice cream, go for a stellar run, serve a gourmet dinner and spend the evening chilling with your not-so-little fifteen year old sister.

And then there are bad days. Like when your father wakes you at 2:00 AM and tells you to drive him to the hospital because he has acute abdominal pain and you're thinking "Oh my gosh, he has appendicitis!" and it just so happens to be the day your mom and three of your brothers are in Connecticut for the aforementioned brother's surgeries and you have three little kids you're looking after who are already under a lot of stress and really don't need you taking off in the middle of the night on top of everything else and there you are spending the night in the ER.

On the good days you thank God because really you don't deserve so much goodness.

And on the bad days you eat comfort food and try to take everything in stride. And somehow, as much as you don't feel it, you thank God. You thank him for the ability to sleep anywhere...even in a noisy ER in a back breaking chair. You thank him that you're an old pro at operating on two hours sleep and can drive safely. You thank him it was not appendicitis and your father is being treated at home. You thank Him for the privilege of living today.

Recently there have been a lot of bad days.

I hate running up hills. I do it because I live in a hill infested area. Sometimes the only motivation to keep going up the hill is the other side. It hurts now. But it won't last forever. And the other side will be all the easier because the struggle.

So I thank God for the hills. And eat the dratted comfort food.

3 comments:

  1. Brianna - I so appreciate your honesty and humor. It is beautiful and encouraging.

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  2. You somehow manage to find either a blessing or a moral in every difficult situation, and I admire that. A lot. <3

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  3. Love you Nana, and your simple thankfulness and honest faith.

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