Every year, my baseline seems to slip a little lower. I fight it full throttle, no excuses, no mercy. I remember a young man I had as a patient. He had cancer. He was dying. He was in love. They tried everything. Nothing was too strange. Nothing was off the table. Every minute was precious because they were small enough to count.
We’re all dying, but we tell ourselves we have enough time. We often squander it. But, that’s okay. That’s part of the value of it, I think. Having the illusion of enough time to waste it. It feels good.
We went to Grace Cathedral on our San Francisco vacation. I’m not Catholic, but this felt like a place where no stone was left unturned to make people’s lives better. Nothing was off the table. Inclusive. Intersectional. Words we sling like blades because sometimes we need to cut past the fat and get to the bone.
I lit a candle of thanks. One for each of my children. For their futures. For the hours I’ve been given in their lives. For the minutes full of their love and joy and growth. It’s a holy space, that prayer of gratitude for the gift of them in my life.
Take a moment to find a path past the outrage, the frustrations, the judgments – and remember, we are all on the same journey, we just get there by different roads. Peace and love to you. May your journey be complex and satisfying – however long it may last.