A Normal Day

I was driving between patient’s houses thinking about all that needed to happen that evening. Chris needed to study so I was envisioning gymnastics, supper, baths, and bedtime. I caught myself thinking, “one more bath time.”

Almost immediately the audaciousness of that thought hit me. I thought of all the young parents I’ve sat with while they were dying. I remembered their longing to raise their children and be the person who takes care of them. I know they would have gladly been strong enough to give their child a bath or simply read them a story.

My eyes could see her in front of me, her kids almost the same age as mine. Tears running down her sweet face as she talked about fighting. I could hear me telling her that she will not regret celebrating “big”, even if she survives, she won’t regret writing her kids letters. I told her about the birthday letters I write my own kids. I write them for two reasons. One is to remember and celebrate the year. The other is so they have it, they can know my thoughts. Just because I don’t currently have a known illness, doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed a tomorrow. We talked about how all parents should strive to leave that legacy.

There I was, almost dreading on more bath time. Reframe. Reality is that it’s not one more, it’s one less. One less time I’ll get them clean, play with bath toys, snuggle them in a towel, and read stories. I owe it to all those parents who don’t get to have a normal day to be intentional about my own.

My own family and dear friends have gone through many tragedies this year. So much hurt and so much sad. I am blessed beyond measure and I pray daily for many. I recognize that I am always a heartbeat away from routine.

Soaking up the beauty of another normal day.

Mary Jane Irion: “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you, before you depart. Let me knot pass you by in quest for some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, and bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more then all the world, your return. And then I will know what now I am guessing; that you are indeed a common rock and not a jewel, but that a common rock made of the very mass substance of the earth in all of it’s strength and plenty puts a gem to shame. The day is over, and now I will sleep.”