Good, bad, and ugly days

As I have written, right after my Dad's hemorrhagic stroke, almost everything was up in the air.  One day would be good and the next awful.  The smart, smart doctor up there kept telling us that.  "You shouldn't count on a good day tomorrow just because today was," she'd say.  I appreciated that because it helped me to try and  keep my emotions at a plateau and not get overly excited or overly blue.

Well, that is still true!  Just because today is a good day for Dad doesn't mean tomorrow will be.  Or today being a bad day doesn't mean tomorrow will be.  True for all of us, eh?  But with TBI's it is all up and down, up and down, down and up!  One day is spent laughing and laughing then the next in crying and frustration.

I don't know what all of this means, except that we should trust even more in the Great God who gave us life!  I am glad that my curiosity does not lead me to dwell on wondering why things happened.  I hope it never, ever does!  Because the truth is that we don't know!  Neal A. Maxwell was afflicted with cancer and when asked if he ever wondered "why me?" he responded "Well, why not me?"  Our God who can see the end from the very beginning knows all things, and He is the same yesterday, today, and forever.  Even with all that changes and happens in our lives we still can know that He is there, He is constant, and He is watching over all.

Trials and challenges are not unique to my family and I know that.  Just today a family friend sent me an e-mail and shared with me some things about her own father and his memory loss.  I feel so much for the people who are aware enough to know what they have lost.

Everyone has their own mountains to climb but the thing that brings us all together is the brotherhood of all man, the knowledge of the truth that we are all God's children.  The absolute truth that we can look to God and receive His mercy.

I found this hymn at a challenging time for me and I have always loved the comfort and reassurance it gives.

Come, ye disconsolate where'er ye languish;
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts,  here tell your anguish,
Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
"Earth has no sorrow that heav'n cannot cure."

Here see the Bread of Life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heav'n can remove.

Thomas Moore and Thomas Hastings