I went down to the basement to get a drink. On the elevator back up, a man walked on and we both did what normal people do – we looked at the numbers as we rose up the tower of the hospital. I was feeling down as we went up.
My right hand was in considerable pain in my heart was too. My son was in for ear surgery. I felt like it was the worst day in the world. I looked at the man – he was probably a little younger than me and I could tell he was having the worst day in the world too.
“How are you,” I said making small talk.
“Tired.” I could tell looking at him that he was telling the truth.
“we’re going to have to move my daughter. She is having seizures and no one knows why.”
I told a total stranger that I would pray for his daughter and I have and will. Because at that moment I didn’t know what else to do or say.
My son is doing better this morning. He had a rough day — his little body didn’t like the anesthesia. My drawing hand still hurts and it’s tough to grab a pencil. I will have to get it checked by a doctor. But first I will tend my boy and be grateful. He’ll heal. I’ll heal.
Then I’ll pray for a little girl and her father. And next time I think I’m having the worst day in the world, I will remember I have it pretty darn good.