I clearly remember her – not her name, but her…the patient on the oncology unit who talked wistfully about her long-standing desire to take art classes, specifically painting classes, when she retired. I was 45 years old when we met, and I made myself a promise that day. I vowed then not to wait until I no longer had kids at home, was older, retired, financially comfortable, or thought I had enough discretionary time to do fun, enjoyable, interesting, or mind-stretching activities. I wouldn’t wait.

There are times when irreconcilable circumstances happen – things that can’t be undone, like a cancer diagnosis, a tragic accident, or words that were said but can’t be unsaid. Each leaves a wound. Amid such difficulty, it can feel like a marathon that never ends.

She was diagnosed with cancer, underwent months of treatment and finally, she was in remission. Her hair had grown back; she was going to the gym; she was stronger.

His wife died six months ago. He was back at work the week after her death. He was paying the bills, doing the laundry, and cooking, which didn’t require much effort because he was rarely hungry.

How many of us have needed a bridge to cross difficult terrain or deep water to get to safer ground, whether literally or figuratively?

Even now, thinking about crossing the Royal Gorge Bridge many years ago triggers a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can still see my fingernails digging into the car’s dashboard and feel my heart pounding as I realized we were only halfway across what seemed like a mile-long span. The bridge was strong but so was my extraordinary fear of heights.

I remember being excited about getting our first car GPS system. I was both amused and frustrated when, upon taking a different route than the one outlined in the system, the voice would say, “Recalculating! Recalculating!” Amused… that it responded that way; frustrated… when it kept repeating the phrase over and over.

He was walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the video on his iPhone. There was no awareness of the uncovered manhole ahead, until he found himself tumbling into semi-darkness, 10-feet underground. Stunned, but coming to his senses, he yelled for someone to come to his aid, to help him out of the deep hole. He heard a voice above him – the voice of a priest. Thank God, he thought. The priest offered a prayer on his behalf, and walked on.

Do you remember the hard times – the ones you lived through and wondered how you ever got through them?

Maybe the hard time was financial scarcity…to the point of deciding whether to buy toothpaste or toilet paper with your paycheck because you couldn’t afford both. Maybe it was the breakup of a relationship…being so scared of the future and making it on your own, yet fearful of remaining in a relationship that would surely take your soul.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve listened to another’s story of distress, fear, or grief. Each one shared with me that when talking to someone about what they were going through, the typical response went something like this: “Well, let me tell you about…my cancer diagnosis, my cousin’s cancer diagnosis, my ex, my dysfunctional boss, my struggle with depression, my loss, etc., etc…”

For many years now, I’ve suggested that we each have a word that is meaningful – a word that describes our focus and goals…just one word. The word I chose was “balance.” My word has never changed over time. It’s a valuable and descriptive word for me even though I never fully achieve it. But it’s always there – waiting for me to arrive.