When my sons were very young, I read to them before tucking them in for the night. There were a few books that were as much as a comfort for me, as they were for them. One was All in a Day by Cynthia Rylant illustrated with Nikki McClure’s enchanting cut-out art. The book went through a day in the life of a mother and son out in the country. They worked, they looked at beautiful things, and they napped.
I no longer have a copy of this book, which grieves me more than it should, so I cannot give specifics on lines that soothed my soul, but I remember a feeling that each day has enough in itself and then you begin again, fresh and new. It was a great comfort on those long days when I was home alone with two energetic small boys.
My sons are now teens, taller than me and seem to be willing and able to care for me now in many ways, but I continue to think of this concept often as I move through my life. Today is enough. It is all I have. Tomorrow is not granted, so I do the best I can with today.
There are many facets of this philosophy of life. Carpe Diem! Seize the day! Make the most of the day before you. Or Memento Mori, remember you will die, so make the most of today. Or still another, “do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
All these thoughts surface when I am overwhelmed at the future landscape before me. Most of which I have no control or influence over. But I can be content with what I have today.
I can do good work. I can be present for my family and friends in ways that can only be given and received as a gift. I can fill my life with beautiful things. Today I can take care of my body, my mind and my spirit, knowing all three are intertwined in ways we do not understand. When I tend to myself, I am full to give to others.
And I can love. Deeply and without expectations.
This is a great comfort to me. Some days I have a lot of energy. I do what I can with it. Some days I have little energy or resources and I do what I can with it.
And each night, when I rest my head upon my pillow, I know that if tomorrow is given to me, I will be grateful and do the best I can.
This is all I have. This is all I can do. It’s more than enough for one day. It’s everything.
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I knew I recognized that beautiful art! When my boys were born, my brother and his family gave me two copies of "The First 1000 Days: A Baby Journal" by Nikki McClure. Even when I was terribly tired, I'd make myself jot down some little tidbit about each of the boys at month-markers or other milestones. I'm so grateful for these books, since I was sleeping so little in those days I have no memory of many things!
For me, I learned the saying in Spanish many years ago while working in Honduras: "Ayer se murio, y manana es mentira" (Yesterday is dead and tomorrow is a lie).