When you get a head cold, do you ever wish you had appreciated better when you could breathe through your nose? 

What do you take for granted, that you’d miss and regret if it disappeared?

Our family had quite a rough patch from about 2018-2022, and this past year things really turned around.  I still have a little post-stress reactivity (a second of dread whenever I get a text or call from the kids), but it’s much better.

Then last week I had another scare, an x-ray showing what looked like a hole in bone—a lucency, as it’s called.  Despite opposite effort, I allowed myself to catastrophize.  Osteosarcoma, I thought—an uncommon and aggressive bone cancer (it would not actually present this way, I realize now, but hey, I was hijacked).  The thought cascade unfolded rapidly: urgent specialist referral and imaging, surgical biopsy, treatment—surgery, radiation, chemotherapy.  Recurring appointments, treatment side effects, and physical, psychological, and relational pain.  I’d have to cancel my vacation this week, find coverage at work (or take a leave again), maybe stop working on the book, and, gasp, stop going to the gym.  Kids’ activities and future would be affected—would they have to move/stay close to home for college?  And the absolute worst-case scenario—death—what would that be like?  Interestingly, this semi-unintentional exercise actually helped me calm down.  It reminded me of when Daughter had an anaphylactic food reaction with the babysitter.  I had to meet them at the Emergency Department without killing myself in a car accident on the way, so to center myself I imagined the worst—her death.  In a moment I realized that though it would be horrible, I would be okay—because I had to, for Son.  I breathed deeply, drove mindfully, and arrived physically and psychologically intact.  We simply do what we must do.

I have faced multiple life-threatening situations at home, in addition to witnessing all manner of death in my work.  Maybe that’s how I can balance my emotional reactions with a more rational response?  I have seen enough times how good can turn to bad on a dime, and it makes me cherish the good while it lasts—really revel in it.

Before I got confirmation that the x-ray last week was, in fact, normal, I had already come to a sense of peace about whatever may come.  I thought to myself, ‘Well, good thing I really soaked up everything awesome about life until now, saturated myself with it and shared the joy as much as I could.’  I found myself with very few regrets, which empowered me to meet uncertainty with calm, confidence, and strength, and not denial or false optimism.

It’s not that I dread the future, expect serial crises, or harbor some kind of victim mentality.  I just understand the unpredictable randomness of life and accept my total lack of control in most situations.  Reveling in the good now protects me when any hard times do come later. I feel deep satisfaction and contentment to remember all that was good before, and that I knew it at the time, truly appreciated it.  That warm, radiant energy feels stored like solid rocket fuel, stable and dense, ready to call forth for emotional and relational thrust when I need it. 

What can you revel in now, that will replenish your existential fuel for the unknown future?

Below are some of my current revels.  May you, readers and friends, feel your own daily delights emerge with light and coherence in these waning days of summer.  May you immerse in the awesomeness and feel it buoy you through whatever life brings.

Shaneiaks meet in person!

Alone time in the mountains