Looking back over my life, I have found that I don't remember all the days that everything went right.  My best stories are of when things went wrong.  Those are the things that I remember.  The day that Scott knocked his front two teeth out.  The day that Becky put the sterling butter knife in the light socket and permanently burned a black notch in it.  The day that Pat was riding her horse Rusty and he ran under a tree and got knocked for a loop.  Luckily no broken bones.

The day the horse got out of the fence and I was running down the highway with a broom trying to get him back in the pasture.  (Eight months pregnant at the time.)   The day that Ken was hurting so bad he couldn't stand up, wouldn't go to the doctor, and both boys (Jon and Scott) had to practically drag him out--his appendix had ruptured.  Ken always said, "Pain is just weakness leaving the body."  I think he would have just gritted his teeth and died rather than admit the pain was more than he could stand.

The day I dropped a pan of cornbread that I was trying to put in the oven and batter flew everywhere. On me, in my hair, on the cabinets, on the floor.  What a mess.  The day Jonathan left for college and didn't tell me he had a snake in the closet that he had been feeding for months.  Good grief.  I could have killed him.  The day we came home from vacation and a water pipe had burst in the bathroom and flooded half of the house.

Are your memories like that?  I have millions of them.  All simi-disasters.  But the good days, when everything went right have faded.  The good days that I remember are special ones like when Ken came home from Vietnam--alive.  Not in a box.  When Scott made All-State in baseball and Jon made All-State in football.  When Pat played Lucy in the play "Charlie Brown."  When Becky was selected as a National Merit Scholar.  There are lots more of those kinds of wonderful memories.  But most of life is a blur.  It trickles through your fingers.

Cherish the day that God has given us.