Good Things On Bad Days

You have them, too. I know you do.
And if you tell me you don't I might not be able to talk to you for a little while.
That's just the way it is.

I'm talking about bad days.
You know, the ones that just feel a little off.
And the ones that just feel a little bad for no apparent reason (or at least one that you wish to share).

Today was one of those days for me.
And I didn't expect it at all.
It just happened, from the second I woke up and even to while I write this.

But....

(And I love this next part!)

Over the last little while I have come to know about and believe in, "Good Things On Bad Days".
Sometimes I like to call them,  "Compensatory Blessings".

These tend to pop up for me on days like today.
Days when I am trying really hard to do good.
Days when I am trying really hard to be good.
Days when I am trying really hard to feel good.
The days when none of that seems to work.
Because no matter what, the day just feels bad.

Yup. That was my today.
But just when I was wondering when I will ever feel better again, things began to happen.
Which means I have to share...
So here we go.


Good Thing On Bad Day Number One

Lunch with a friend at Cheesecake Factory.
The company was delightful!
And bonus: I ordered just right.
I almost never do this. Especially there. And most especially my last three visits there.
But I did today.
From the Dr. Pepper with lime, to the Lettuce Wraps, to the Peppermint Bark Cheesecake, it was oddly perfect for my today.

I love that!

(Insert shameless plug for this seasonal cheesecake offering:

Peppermint Bark Cheesecake.

Amazing. Get one. Today. And tomorrow. And every day till it is no longer available. 

Or until your jeans don't fit any more. 

Yes. It is that good.)

Good Thing On Bad Day Number Two

The lunch bill came. The server asked if it was to be split.
I said, "yes".
My friend said, "no".
She generously picked up the tab.
And I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried. Right there in the restaurant.
Because in spite of my feeling bad, I recognized this for what it was.
A really kind and compassionate gesture. And a Compensatory Blessing.
And I felt grateful that I have such good friends. And such a good God.



Good Thing On Bad Day Number Three

This one takes a little back story...

Once upon a time my kids were bitty and I started a Christmas tradition. Each year I would buy them an ornament for our tree that they could one day, when grown and married, take from the family Christmas tree to start their new family Christmas tree with. It's a sweet tradition and one that never died. And my married kids have enjoyed being able to have a sliver of their old to mix with their new. But it didn't take me long into this tradition to realize that one day all of those ornaments would be gone, because all of my kids would be gone. And unless I wanted to end up with a bare tree I needed to do something drastic. So I began to buy myself an ornament each year, too.

Well, this year I find all these ornaments trapped in what I call 'The Ornament Hostage Crisis'. It's kind of a tragically funny story that means...no ornaments. And an un-ornamented tree just won't do. So today I decided to improvise. And I purchased some inexpensive red, green and gold ornament balls, as well as some ingredients to make apple cinnamon ornaments like I did with my kids when they were little.

For more about this check out my daughter's blog post here:

http://karissaandscott.blogspot.com/2012/12/cinnamon-ornaments.html  

And then I went home...

(and this is where Good Thing On Bad Day Number Three really starts)

...where on my apartment door was a sticker from the FedEx man.
I had a package at the apartment office.
I thought for sure this would be a package stacked with legal inquiries.
But instead it was a box that looked like this:

(Gasp! Much too big for legal docs! Happy Surprise!)

And inside that box was a box that looked like this:

(Oooo! Pretty!!)

And inside that box was a box that looked like this:

(Ahhh. I love these kinds of boxes!)

And inside that box was this...

An early Christmas gift from Kid Middle and Her Man.
A Waterford ornament.
Similar to some that are currently under siege.
But new.
And for me a symbolically fresh start to ornament collecting.

I'm not ashamed to admit I cried. A lot. And laughed. A lot. At the same time. For a long time.

It took me two and a half more hours to recognize how very sentimental this was.
My own child was now passing to me a tradition that I had once started with her.
So blessed am I!



Good Thing On Bad Day Number Four

Later I picked up my mail (boring!).
And remembered that I didn't open yesterday's mail (not boring!).
So I did.
In yesterday's mail was a simple note from my sister.

Hi Kam,

Thought you might like these not-so-great quality pictures. : )

I love you!

Debbie

 And here my friends, is a look at a couple of those not-so-great quality pictures.

A picture of my big lovely house, on a big lovely hill, with a big lovely view...

And a picture of me and my dog. 

In my hot pink and hot green room. 

Where I wrote on the closet walls.

For more on this check out this: 

http://pointshootspeak.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-writing-on-wall.html 

This time I just smiled.
And then laughed out loud.
Then cried.
But only a little.
Because I've learned that the sad, the lonely, the dark, the gray, and the just-plain-bad-for-no-apparent-reason (or at least one that you wish to share) days will always come.

But they will often come with Compensatory Blessings - Good Things On Bad Days.

And most importantly, they will always, always give way to the happy, full, bright, sunny, and just-plain-good days that lie waiting around the corner.

The Writing On The Wall

When I was young I lived in a big lovely house, on a big lovely hill, with a big lovely view.
It was very amazing.
And in this big lovely house, on a big lovely hill, with a big lovely view I had a very special room.
Because I got to make it up and I got to plan it.

It was pink and green. Hot pink and hot green. With white cabinetry and a built-in desk.
I had a white, four poster canopy bed and fluffy pillows. It was a basement room with no windows, which made for kind of dangerous, but very sound sleeping. My brother and sisters had special rooms, too. With weird things like carpet on the walls, and funky murals. It was very fun!

But I had something that made my room the best ever...

Double closet doors covered in a material that I could draw on.
With marker.
And then wipe off and draw again.

Since I don't really draw... at all... it was mostly about writing for me. Sometimes I would fill both closet doors with writing. Words I liked, things I wanted to remember, stuff to think about, feelings, ideas, goals, dreams, who I wanted to be.

And when my friends were over we would spend hours in my room drawing, or coloring, or writing, or scribbling whatever we wanted and then wiping it off and starting again. We played Hangman, and Tic-Tac-Toe, and any other games that you draw out. We planned our lives, our boys, our kids, our houses, and our spaces. There were lots of initials and plus signs. But no math beyond Me + My Friend = Very, Very Best Friends Forever. Or Me + The Boy = True Love Always. In a heart.

And when I was feeling especially brave I would practice my first name with the last name of the boy I liked. You know, just to see how they might fit together if Once Upon A Time ever came. Then I could erase it and no one would ever know. Everything was accompanied by crudely drawn pictures of flowers and sunshine. It was magical in all the right ways.

But as life happened, my family eventually moved from that house. And I began to grow up. It wasn't long before the writing, the coloring, the scribbling, the words, the ideas, the dreams, the school girl math, and the flowers and sunshine began to fade.

Until one day the memory of my magical closet doors was tucked deeply away.
So deeply that I had completely forgotten about them.

Recently I moved into an apartment.
With double closet doors.
That I can write on and then erase.
Because they are mirrors.

I didn't make the connection between my childhood closet doors and these closet doors right away. In fact, I didn't tap into that part of my brain for months. But it happened.

It started one day when I came across a quote that was really meaningful to me. A quote that I wanted to reflect on. Every day. So I wrote it at the top of my mirror:

"Communication with Heavenly Father is not a trivial matter. It is a sacred privilege." 

It sits there. And I read it every day and am reminded that I want to pray more meaningfully and deeply.
And more importantly, I want to always listen.


A few days later I needed a positive affirmation to remind me of my worth. So at the top of the other side of the closet I wrote:

"I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father, who loves me, and I love Him." 

(I see it every day and remember that no matter what anyone says, I am valuable.)

Then a few days later I revisited some scripture passages that have have become personally significant to me over the past year. They had started to fade and I didn't want them to. So on the mirror I wrote their references and little reminder clues about each one.

God knows my needs; He will be my light in the wilderness; He will not give stones if I ask for bread.

(I see it every day and remember that my Father in Heaven in acutely aware of me and my struggles. 

He will not let me down or forsake me. And He is very involved in the details of my life.)

Shortly after that, while praying, and trying very hard to listen, I had some thoughts come into my mind. I knew I needed a way to remain focused on them. So I added some key words to my mirror.

Do not worry.    Trust.    Faith.

(I see it every day and remember that God plans better for me than I plan for myself.)

Another week or two later I heard some things I really needed to hear. And remembered some things I really needed to remember. So I made myself a little note to add them to the mirror. And I did.

More doing.    First observe, then serve.    Leave people better than you found them.

(I see it every day and remember that I need to take action. And care for others.)

...................................................................................................................................................................

And then the flashback came.
Like a flood.
And for a few brief moments I was a young girl again, back in my room, with a marker in my hand.
Dreaming, hoping, planning, wishing.
And writing on the wall.

It was powerful. Because I had accidentally and naturally stumbled on a part of me. A part of me that I had forgotten.

I don't think I ever meant to forget writing on the wall. In fact, I'm pretty sure I never completely did. Because for years I have written notes to myself. With my finger. On shower doors covered in steam. I have written my name, kid's names, friend's names, business names, quotes, ideas, and deep thoughts and feelings that have only come in the solitude of a hot, steamy shower. All notes easily erased with just a splash of water.

But what I had forgotten was the connection. The connection between how I was writing and what I was writing. The connection between the me I had become and the me that time and experience had obscured.
The learning, thinking, dreaming, planning, creative me.

...................................................................................................................................................................

By now my mirrors are getting pretty full of little things like,

     Rejoice and be glad in today.    Shine.    Strength to overcome; Courage to become.    

And there is still one side of the mirror that has a big empty space in the middle. 

So I can make sure my outfits match.
And fit.

But the other side? Well, it looks like this... 

Every day I see things that keep me focused on where I am going. Instead of where I have been.

Things that keep me remembering who I have been all along.

And in a corner, near the bottom, is this...

A crudely drawn flower.
Just like I've been drawing since I was a young girl in a big lovely house, on a big lovely hill, with a big lovely view.
Hot pink and hot green.