We all have them, don’t we? And some poor souls -- such as those shut-up in nursing homes or incarcerated or incurably ill -- seem to have nothing but bad days. This time I am not writing to them as much as to us average folk who have only occasional bad days.

That may serve as the first rule in surviving bad days -- to realize that most days are reasonably good days, and that a bad day soon gives way to a good one. And if we are grateful for the good days, and use them to store up reserves for the not-so-good days we are better prepared when dark clouds loom.

Gratitude is in fact an important part of the answer -- gratitude for the good and bad days alike. We would not know the joy of gorgeous weather if it were not for rainy and stormy weather, and except for problems -- sometimes painful ones -- we would not know the glory of success In Philippians Paul speaks of his imprisonment as having “fallen out for the furtherance of the gospel.” His bad days even emboldened his brethren to speak boldly for the faith.

And so the apostle rejoiced in his suffering -- for God can do things in suffering that can be done in no other way. As disciples of Christ we believe that buried deep in every adversity is seed for good that God will bring to fruition. We are ready for the rude shock of life’s shattering blows., for we understand that this is how God fashions the soul. The back of the tapestry is in disarray with dangling threads -- a fitting metaphor for bad days -- while the front side reveals the skillful plotting of the weaver.

An anonymous poem reflects this view of life’s walk:

  I walked a mile with pleasure;

  She chattered all the way.

  But not a thing I learned

  When pleasure walked with me.

  I walked a mile with sorrow;

  And nary a word she said;

  But oh the things I learned

  When sorrow walked with me.

This does not mean that God brings on the suffering, but it does mean that God uses it as the refiner’s fire to burn out the dross and preserve the gold. Hard days can be the flail that separates the chaff from the grain. Adversity is the workshop in which God beats out the character essential for salvation. It is one of the mysteries of the wise providence of God that he shapes the soul through the sharp tool of affliction.

But David said better than I and far more succinctly:

Before I was afflicted I went astray,

But now I keep Your word. (Psalm 119:67)

Personal Note

I found it amusing how many of you told me you scroll down and read this section first. That is forgivable. It was true of those who read my Restoration Review during its 40 years of publication. They read it backwards! Now you would be surprised if I put these notes first!

Well, the news may be mixed this time, or at least different. From what the doctor tells me it looks as if we may be in for a long haul in caring for Ouida -- “months, maybe even years.” We have decided -- Ouida agrees -- that we should move back our plans to give up house keeping and move to a retirement facility. We had planned for it by the time I turn 90, upwards of two years away. Now we plan for it in the next 60-90 days. While the facility has not yet been determined, it will be in or near Denton.

Preparing for this will be a monumental task and time consuming. I will therefore sharply reduce my time with the computer, beginning now. I will write fewer essays and will respond to less mail. But I will read all mail, and I will be pleased to hear from you. But I will give nearly all my time to caring for Ouida and preparing to sell our home and move. But regardless of when our house sells we plan to relocate no later than July 1. I already need the relief that an assisted living situation will bring.

I am hopeful that Ouida improves enough to have quality life in an assisted living facility. She should be able in a general way to care for herself and to do the simple things she enjoys -- reading, TV, company, church, an occasional outing, even if with limited energy. She is yet too weak to do most of these things. She dressed for church last Sunday but was too tired to go. She does bathe and dress herself. The doctor urges exercise and activity, but this is difficult for her. At my urging -- and when nurses come in -- she walks about the house and does exercises, but it exhausts her. She is sometimes too tired even to whisper to me. Because of the blood thinner she takes- - to avoid blood clots that cost her one kidney -- she is always cold and hovers over a heater, even on warm days. She sleeps a lot, day and night. The doctor says the most hopeful sign is that her appetite has improved. I thank you for loving her and praying for her.

Phoebe is once more out of the hospital and in rehab, confident that it will work this time.

You’ll be hearing less from me in the next three months, but we’ll keep in touch.