e

I received a forwarded email this week from a friend. Admittedly, many forwarded emails I receive end up in the trash bin unopened, but this one looked interesting. Although the email had some inaccurate details and/or left some out, my Snopes search returned the original story about a columnist who penned a list of life lessons in celebration of growing older. As I read the list, my shoulders relaxed and my view widened. My heart warmed at the bigger pictures which flashed in my mind with each line and for the first time in a long time, the notion of aging seemed less formidable. 

I wondered if I made a list how it might read and concluded it would likely be similar to the columnist’s list. Over the coming weeks, I’ll be posting stories and memories the 45 lessons evoked in my mind along with images I hope will inspire you as much as Regina Brett’s list inspired me.


1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

His mom calls him “e” and I like the originality. He’s 3 years old - bright, cute, busy, happy, fun – and very sick. E’s become quite special to me although we’ve never met. Every day I check the updates his mother posts and pray the news is good. My hope for him increases each time I read an encouraging report. And when the news isn’t favorable, my heart sinks and I wonder how his mother must feel. 

My children are healthy. We’ve had fevers, infections, injuries, stitches and/or asthmas and allergies. I spent many sleepless nights cleaning up vomit or the other, but daylight never greeted me with a punch in the gut like a pediatrician’s grave report must surely deliver.

Looking at the pictures of e enjoying his life in spite of the needles, chemo, tests, drugs, tubes and other things most of us don’t have regular intimate relationships with, behooves me to cultivate contentment with such blessings as I have - which are vast.

Fair isn’t a variable in e’s life. It’s a meaningless, non-relative word that will neither improve his health nor affect a cure. Every morning he wakes up is a new day to live and explore within the limitations of an illness, which doesn’t negotiate.

Today the news appears encouraging. The surgeon didn’t think the spot he removed from e’s lung looked like a tumor. This brings him one step closer to the needed transplant. Although I haven’t asked e’s mom, I’m guessing she believes life is good.