Processing + A Bunch of Great Days

Mr. Money Mustache (of FIRE fame) once wrote that “the key to a great life is simply having a bunch of great days. So you can think about it one day at a time.”

I don’t necessarily agree this is a one-size-fits-all solution. There are seasons of life that do not lend themselves to many good days, let alone great ones. And we need only a cursory look at our newsfeeds to realize that a large proportion of the global population is – even with the most Pollyanna-ish of outlooks – unlikely to have had a great day today.

But this week our family managed to string together a series of truly great days.

This blog is a way for me to memorialize the good and the hard. The fact I don’t have blog archives before last September is likely a blessing because my last lake trip with the kids was a bitter disappointment. John was out of town for work and the kids fought the whole time. I was miserable. They were miserable. So it was with the hint of those memories I entered this week with a bit of trepidation.

I wrote the paragraphs above last night at 6:42 pm. We were wrapping up a “bunch of great days” at the lake and I was desperate to memorialize it. It was one of those weeks where I gave a happy sigh at the end of every day realizing: These are memories we’re going to treasure forever. I realized, even as we were living the days, that they were extra special.

Time seemed to slow down this week. Instead of looking at the clock and being amazed by how quickly the day had flown, I repeatedly found myself spotting the time and doing a double take. Really? It’s only 3:30 pm? I thought it was 5 pm? Hooray! More time for fun!

I stopped writing at 6:42 pm, because three of my favourite people in the world were going fishing. My father was taking my husband and son to a little cove and, on a whim, I offered to come along. I had planned to stay behind and luxuriate in how successful the week had been. But for some reason – maybe all that cold water swimming this week, likely divine Providence – I shut my computer and hollered down to the shoreline asking if I could come along for the ride. After all, it was a week of embracing the chance to make memories. I rolled up my pant legs, buckled my life jacket, hopped in the motorized canoe and spent the next two hours getting soaked, releasing 20 fish off the line, baiting endless empty hooks and watching the marvel of nature through my 9-year-old’s eyes.

It was sheer perfection.

We saw a beaver swim in circles around us. And an eagle soar above us. And a turtle swim below us. Oh, and my husband and son caught and released fish non-stop for over an hour. It felt like a fairy-tale ending to a practically-perfect week.

The time stamp on this picture is 7:58 pm. I was watching my son loving life – full of smiles and joy and even though my fingers were covered in fish slime (not my fav), I snapped this photo because I wanted to remember this exact moment. It felt so good.

At almost exactly the same time, someone else was losing their young son to tragedy.

A horrific accident happened in our little community yesterday – which we only learned about this morning en route back to Nova Scotia – when a teen tragically lost his life. There seems to be endless juxtaposition today. It felt like an affront to see the sun come out; the accident was the result of flash flooding. We came back to a town that looked dry and safe; yesterday it was the sight of a desperate search-and-rescue operation.

How can I write about having a bunch of great days when I look at this picture and now realize what was happening in someone else’s life at that exact moment?

Isn’t this the never ending conundrum of pain and grief and the intersection of our stories? The reality of life moving on, a day passing without much notice – while realizing that very same day marks a distinct before/after for people all around the globe within the context of their own stories. Because we all have a story, and I know it makes our hearts ache that so many stories are hard and, if you’re anything like me, it does make me frightened to know that my story will have other very hard chapters and I can’t predict when the next hard chapter will start.

Yet I celebrate the fact the pages this week were wonderful and special. And I ache for the loss and the feelings that come as we seem to – day after day after day – face some new horror or injustice or unspeakable sadness either remotely or directly. But I also look at my camera roll and smile. Because my family’s story includes the fact we had a bunch of really great days.

Not previously mentioned, but now-treasured memories:

• We saw the most incredible lightening storm (you can see a tiny sliver of a strike in this photo). It was beautiful and awe-inspiring and happened far enough away we could watch safely from shore, but close enough the sky was absolutely mezmerizing.
• We had bonfires four nights in a row.
• One day we had three fires: breakfast on the beach (bread toasted over the fire), hotdogs roasted over the fire for supper, and then a third and final bonfire so the kids could each make a s’more.
• We went swimming. I went swimming five days in a row (unheard of! it was unseasonably warm, but still…) and one day I went swimming twice. One of those times it was 20C and raining and yes…I still went in the water. The kids splashed and jumped and did hand stands and cannonballed and laughed. It was magic.

• Fishing. So much fishing. So many happy hours spent sitting on the shoreline – sometimes with only a few nibbles, but that was sufficient to keep L, in particular, more than contented.
• Nature. Eagles. Herons. Turtles. Frogs. Fish. Loons. Geese. A Mama duck leading a parade of fluffy ducklings. A beaver.
• Hours spent sitting around the table or bonfire talking as a group. The kids coming and going, joining and exiting conversations naturally and jovially. They rarely fought which is…rare.

• Watching my dad watch his grandkids sitting on the shoreline.
• Coffee. Caffeinated first thing, and decaf after our afternoon swim. I loved the ritual and joy of sipping familiar, hot liquid comfort around the morning fire and then again when I was still chilled from the water.

• L discovering a snake skin. He was so proud.
• A making and decorating sugar cookies (with just a bit of help from my mom). She is so artistic and the cookies were both beautiful and delicious.
• A weaving an intricate friendship bracelet for her brother (mine is next; I’ve put in an order for shades of purple) and painting a “commissioned” rock for John. Art projects make her so happy.

When I started writing this post last night, I had planned to wrap it up by listing the reasons why I think this trip was so special. I mentioned some of the ingredients for success earlier this week (and had identified a few more) but I don’t really care about my supposed Whys anymore. I’m just grateful it was a great week.

Today was another reminder of how brief and vapid life is – and that’s scary and sobering but I suppose it’s also partly what propels us to make memories with friends and go swimming in the rain and say yes to fishing and tell the people we love that we love them and take the pictures of those moments that just feel so good.

I received a sweet card from Anne a few weeks ago that looks like this:

I appreciated the nod to my love of lighthouses (Exhibit A: my blog logo, thanks as always to Kae) and our family’s quest to visit lighthouses, but also my attempts to be optimistic and celebrate the joyful things in life. (Thank you, Anne!) More importantly, I hope that my faith shines through in my writing as my guiding light in life.

Then today I received a note (and a rather hilarious but absolutely touching gift), from a dear blog reader (in case she’d rather not be identified, I’m not including her name, but you know who you are, and THANK YOU), who wrote this:

You have been such an unexpected bright spot in this season of my life. I hope and pray that you intimately experience God’s abundance in the summer season, and that there is joy and rest amidst all the other complicated aspects of life.

I cannot sum up my current life situation more succinctly than this. I want to show up and be a light (or bright spot!) when I’m able. (Sometimes I’m not, so then I show up and share the hard.) I want to experience God’s abundance, and I want to embrace joy and rest…while realizing life is complicated and unfathomable some times.

Light is such a powerful force, and we need it so desperately.

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

Header photo by J Yeo on Unsplash