There’s Still Good on the Other Side of the Door

Some mornings, you can wear yourself out before you ever put your shoes on.

There is the news. There is the thing somebody said about the news. There is somebody else explaining why the first somebody has everything backward. Meanwhile, your tea is getting cold, and you have been holding the same sock for five minutes.

On mornings like that, I find it helps to open the door.

There is usually a Squirrel out there with something urgent to attend to.

He has no intention of explaining himself. He has a walnut, three possible destinations, and apparently very little time. A Carolina Wren is giving instructions from somewhere in the shrubbery.

Then, from a nearby tree, come the familiar voices of Mourning Doves.

“Coo-OO-oo, coo, coo, coo.”

I stop and listen.

There is something reassuring about that sound. I have heard it on good mornings and difficult ones, through years that went according to plan and others that most certainly did not. Often, I find myself listening for the next call.

For a little while, my tea can cool. My shoulders settle. I notice the sunlight reaching across the grass.

Down the way, somebody is walking a dog who needs to inspect the same patch of grass he inspected yesterday.

And somewhere beyond my view, people are already doing good things.

Someone is making breakfast for another person. Someone is heading to work to care for people they have never met. A neighbor is returning a borrowed tool. A friend is picking up the telephone because “I was thinking about you” seemed reason enough to call.

Most of this will never make the news.

It will, however, make somebody’s day.

I try to remember that when the world feels unsettled. There are an awful lot of decent people getting up each morning and going about the business of caring for one another. They have worries of their own. Their knees hurt. The car needs something expensive. They would have appreciated another hour of sleep.

And still, they show up.

I have considerable faith in those people.

Hope sometimes looks very much like them, actually. Work shoes by the door. An extra sandwich wrapped for someone. A porch light left on until everybody gets home.

We cannot know everything tomorrow will ask of us. Some days bring real disappointments, and some troubles take more than a good night’s sleep to put right.

But there will still be a tomorrow on the other side of the door.

There will still be a child laughing at the bobbing antics of a birthday balloon.

There will still be a dog who greets his favorite person as though the whole day has been leading up to this very moment.

There will still be someone learning to ride a bicycle, and someone running alongside, remembering how it felt and offering encouragement.

There will still be a terrible joke that makes an old friend laugh anyway.

There will still be someone moving over to make room, someone sharing what they have, and someone saying, “Here, let me help you with that.”

The sun will come up. Somebody will need a hand. Somebody else will have one to offer. On some days, we may be surprised to find which side of that helping hand we find ourselves on. And at times when we can, we will have another chance to offer ours.

And that squirrel will be getting on with his day, finding a good place for one more walnut, quite certain that tomorrow he will have a use for it.

Till next time then —

Jim (and Red!)

A Little Red Bear P.S. —

When my thoughts get to chasing one another, I sometimes sit on the porch and watch a squirrel tend to his Autumn work. He finds a walnut, chooses a spot, pats the earth back into place, and moves along to the next thing.

After a while, my thoughts slow down enough to let me enjoy the sunshine. The world feels a little more settled, and so do I.

I could probably learn a good deal from that squirrel. Although I would keep my snacks somewhere easier to remember than buried throughout the yard