Tomorrow

I’ve so often based future plans on what today looks like. I know it’s unreasonable, but I always assume tomorrow will be more of the same.  It’s so hard to wrap my head around 3-5 inches of snow overnight when today is mid-60s with a warm and sunny breeze.  The ground is finally squishy and thawing; and, after months of frigid hibernation, everyone I know is anxious to get out and put winter behind us.  And so I naively believe spring has arrived and we’re home-free.  Except I know from years of living in snow country that we’re not out of the woods till April.  And frost is still totally expected into May.  It’s just so tempting to get a pedicure (well, I’d probably never get one, I’d just do the parts at home) and start working on sunning my white feet, to see if my shorts still fit, wash all the coats, and change out the flannel sheets.  We’re on a trajectory to warmer days, so I expect many more days like the ones we’ve just had.  Except I’ve learned in a million different ways that tomorrow can alter everything.

Obviously.  We never wake up expecting this to be the day that everything changes, that a loved one will leave us, that a family member will be diagnosed with cancer, that a daughter will confide she’s pregnant, that another will hear the results that she’ll never be able to have babies, a life-altering accident, a paralyzing stroke, an unexpected lay-off, an earthquake, a flood, a devastating fire, an affair you had no idea about.  Major hits we never saw coming.  And just like that our world is turned upside down.

Maybe yesterday was normal.  We felt fine, our home was intact, we all went to bed together, we had dinner as a family, we thought the kids were doing ok, we thought we were doing ok.  But out of nowhere, tomorrow came and everything came crashing down forcing us to create a new sense of today.

But there’s always a flip side.  Today and so many yesterdays could feel like hell.  We might wonder what the point is.  Why get up and face the devastation, why, when it’s all just more of the same pain and loneliness and mess? When we’re living with a loss, when we’re grieving, when we’re sick, when our kids are struggling, what hope is there that tomorrow will be any better?

Because tomorrow everything could change.  Research could come through with a new drug and you could find out you’re approved for a clinical trial.  You could meet your new best friend who will become your dearest confidant and hope.  You could meet up with an old friend from high school and fall in love all over again.  You could get a letter saying you made it in to the program you had only applied to on a whim, never dreaming it could become a reality.  You could get a phone call for a second interview for the perfect job and then be offered it on the spot.  You could make the team you were a long shot for.  You could stumble across an ad for a house you didn’t see before and discover it’s exactly what you were looking for; it’s been waiting for you.  Your child could get a teacher who becomes the mentor and savior you’d been praying for. You could adopt a dog that ends up pulling you out of your funk.  You could get a call from a family member whose relationship with you has been strained.  You could read or hear something that changes your entire thinking about an issue.  You could muster up the courage to talk to an old friend you drifted away from and reunite.  You could find out you’re pregnant years after having given up.  You could be offered a foster placement.  You and I just have no idea the goods tomorrow has in store for us.

So while we never know (and probably might not want to know) what tomorrow will bring, and every morning we take a risk simply by waking up, that might be just the impetus we need to make the most of our todays.  

So cliche and over-stated and yet so unheeded, but why?  Why do we put off pulling those we love close to us?  I love it when my girlfriends and I hug and tell each other out loud how much we love each other.  Maybe we’re old and don’t care how weird it sounds, maybe we’ve lived long enough to know how valuable solid friends are and how short life is, maybe we feel like sisters? I don’t know, but I’m glad we’re sharing our love for each other audibly.  I love it when we group hug as a family, when we curl up on the couch under blankets with each other, when we cuddle on the bed and just talk.  I love my nights with Todd when we’re tired and plum worn out but stay up late just cuddling and talking.  I love all the times we made time for dinner and when we play games and share our days.

Why do we think we’re guaranteed another tomorrow? And another?  Why do we put off taking that family road trip to see grandma or the overnighter we so desperately need as a couple, painting the family room or planting a flowerbed, telling our kids about our childhood or what really matters in life?  Why do we let our marriages get stale and our kids to flounder without honest guidance?  Why do we let weeks go by without talking to our siblings or parents?  Why do we ignore the older people in our lives or forget to celebrate the small achievements of our kids?  Why do we spend so much time watching life on our screens instead of living for real?  Why do we stay in a job we hate when our passion is to create a non-profit or to buy a ranch?  Why do we keep eating tacos instead of trying out some of those promising recipes we pulled out of Real Simple?

We think we have tomorrow.  That tomorrow will be more of the same.  That we have time.  That nothing will change.

But that thinking is dangerous because it traps us in today.  Which I’m all for, mindfully living in the present.  But too often we’re unimpressed with what’s happening today or, on the flip side, we’re too mired down in what our current circumstances are.  We forget that tomorrow all of this could—and might—be different.  So it’s meaningful to assess where we are, what we cherish, what we’d like to change, how we can make things better.

So while I’d love for all my kids to be at home, for summer to linger, to live in a house without projects, and for weekends to stretch a little longer, there is beauty in seeing our kids launch, move away, go to college, and be self-sufficient.  I look forward to fall fires and soup and crisp morning walks even as we’re fading out of a long harsh winter and heading into spring.  I love that our projects create cohesiveness and opportunities to work together as a family.  And while I love, love, love our weekends as a family, it’s ok for Monday to come so we can tidy up and get back to our work, to feel productive and needed.

When I’m in a good spot, all I want is for life to hold still. When it’s bad, all I can think about is getting past this discomfort and pain. But I know from experience that there’s always something right around the corner, sometimes welcome, sometimes difficult.  But if we live in hope, if we have faith that things will all work out eventually, if we live in gratitude daily, if we reach beyond ourselves to serve and love others, if we draw our loved ones close, we will be making the most of our todays and we will become more ok with accepting what tomorrow brings.  We will begin to learn that our tomorrows will always have value even as they rarely look like our todays.