Have you ever heard of the children’s book called, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?
Well, last Sunday I had one of those days. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. Maybe I stayed up too late Saturday night. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten pizza. Whatever it was, I woke up Sunday morning with my head throbbing and my back aching. I felt tired and weak. I decided to stay home from church.
Later, when Curt and the girls returned home, they gave me several sweet messages from people at church.
“Tell Sheri I’m thinking about her.”
“Let your mom know I’ll be praying for her.”
I appreciated their thoughts and prayers. Ever since I was diagnosed with MS, I’ve had so much support from my friends.
Later that afternoon Curt took Taylor to a function at school. While there, he ran into a neighbor / friend of ours, who had heard about my diagnosis.
I always find it amusing, how differently men and women communicate. Especially when it comes to showing compassion.
“I heard about Sheri,” our neighbor said. Then he made a fist and punched Curt’s arm. “That really sucks, man.”
As Curt recounted the brief encounter, I couldn’t help but smile.
Prayers are wonderful. Compassion is nice. But sometimes (like on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day), “That really sucks,” just hits the spot.
Well, last Sunday I had one of those days. I don’t know what I did to deserve it. Maybe I stayed up too late Saturday night. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten pizza. Whatever it was, I woke up Sunday morning with my head throbbing and my back aching. I felt tired and weak. I decided to stay home from church.
Later, when Curt and the girls returned home, they gave me several sweet messages from people at church.
“Tell Sheri I’m thinking about her.”
“Let your mom know I’ll be praying for her.”
I appreciated their thoughts and prayers. Ever since I was diagnosed with MS, I’ve had so much support from my friends.
Later that afternoon Curt took Taylor to a function at school. While there, he ran into a neighbor / friend of ours, who had heard about my diagnosis.
I always find it amusing, how differently men and women communicate. Especially when it comes to showing compassion.
“I heard about Sheri,” our neighbor said. Then he made a fist and punched Curt’s arm. “That really sucks, man.”
As Curt recounted the brief encounter, I couldn’t help but smile.
Prayers are wonderful. Compassion is nice. But sometimes (like on a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day), “That really sucks,” just hits the spot.
