Last week, Thursday to be precise, I had a really good day. Many things happened that day to make it so good but what I can’t seem to put my finger on is why I’m feeling the need to hang on to it so tightly. It’s gone beyond simply savoring the moments to a full on death grip of not wanting to let go. I feel almost terrified of forgetting that day.
Perhaps it’s because so many good things happened that day. And how often do we get random days that are completely filled happy happenstance? Or perhaps it’s because I knew that it was a good day while it was happening instead of realizing it during an end of day reflection. Being “in the moment” of that goodness was quite profound. And perhaps it’s because up until then, there hadn’t been very many good days at all. Not that not being good had made them bad but more of nondescript, unremarkable, rather forgetful days.
We have a blanket my mother made from old t-shirts. The shirts are mostly from mine and DB’s high school and college days. They’re the kind of shirts that held great significance to those who wore them. Concerts shirts, school logos, sorority events and the like. To you that blanket has no special meaning. Yes, you could look at it and discern special events and particular themes. But, you don’t know the stories behind them or the memories associated with them. When I look at that blanket, it’s like a patch work timeline of one particular period of my life. It’s special to me because I know the stories that go with the shirts and I hold many of the memories made from them.
In order to remember things, I usually try and write them down. And I’ve wanted to write about this really good day for a week now yet it somehow doesn’t seem right to do so here. It’s not that what made the day so good is particularly private or personal. No, it’s that this day was filled with one special encounter after another and they are laid out together in my mind like that t-shirt blanket. I could tell you about it and you could maybe see some of what was special and profound but the significance of it all is really only meaningful to me.
What I think I really want to share with you about the day though is what it taught me. Good days like that one are often few and far between and that’s fine. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be, couldn’t be so very meaningful in our lives. And not everyday can be memorable and remarkable (our brains would surely overload) but more likely than not, there will be a nugget of goodness somewhere in each and every day. A wise woman once told me that at the end of each day she reflects on two things:
What good has happened today? Give thanks. What bad has happened today? Avoid it tomorrow.
And just as His mercies are new every morning comforts us in the bad times, when we know we’ll get a fresh start the next day, the same goes for those really good days. In Benedictine spirituality it is taught that every day we begin again. “If yesterday was a failure, today begin again. If yesterday was filled with successes, great. Today is a new day. Begin again.”
Somehow I will find a way to perserve the memory of that really good day. It could be that it’s time to start a personal journal that could serve as a written t-shirt blanket for times such as these when I need to document and cherish something dear. But I guess it’s time to release the vice grip on that really good day and begin again.