Some days are just harder than others. I have to admit that it’s true for me, even though I sometimes put on a front like I don’t have “bad days.” Some days something terrible happens – bad news about someone you love, car accidents, illnesses, etc. Those are really bad days, and it’s easy to explain or pinpoint why it is bad. But then some days are hard, even if there’s nothing specific that I can blame. Some days it’s just a combination of minuscule things that didn’t go quite how I planned. Those little things build up. It’s not a big deal when I don’t get a good parking space, get a little claustrophobic on the elevator, or run out of creamer for my coffee, but when little things like that happen all day, my heart is a little heavier when I get home. It’s not that is a terrible day, but it’s just a harder day.
Even at home, little things can go wrong. There are days where everything seems to have gotten dirty overnight, I burn my dinner, Trixie steals my milk, and I drop my keys down the stairs. I’m not talking about the stairs IN my condo… the ones outside. Now, these stairs outside are a little unfriendly. They’re concrete steps with no risers behind them. I have tripped up them, tripped down them, and stubbed my toes on them (not that I blame them for my clumsiness, but still…). At night, there’s light coming up from the creepy basement-level apartments below and while I’m not scared of the stairs, I am not particularly fond of them.
Sometimes, Trixie refuses to go down the stairs by herself, and I’m reminded that even my dog can have a harder day.
Most times that we go outside to “potty,” she will race down the stairs, or trot along beside me. But there are days when she will stop at the top of the stairs, and just look at me; she will not budge until I come up and get her. Sometimes when this happens I can coax her into walking down beside me, but usually I have to pick her up and carry her down the stairs. The timing seems random to me. It has happened in the morning, late at night, and at lunch. There isn’t any consistency with the day of the week, the events of the day, or anything else logical.
The first few times, I admit that I fussed her a little bit – “Let’s go…We gotta hurry! Why are you doing this?” Then, one time, I remembered that it had stormed at my house earlier in the day. Trixie HATES thunder. It scares her. She is absolutely pathetic and hides in her bed. As soon as it dawned on me that there had been thunder earlier in the day, I scooped her right up and carried her down those scary stairs. That day had been harder for her, and she just didn’t feel like going down the stairs by herself. [OK, I know that I’m probably over-analyzing this, but in my mind it makes sense.]
Now, whenever she doesn’t want to go down the stairs, I will first spend about 30 seconds encouraging her to come down the stairs by herself. But when that fails (and it usually does), I will carry her. Do I baby her? Yes. Would Cesar Milan be appalled? Probably. But I love her. And sometimes, loving her looks like carrying her down the stairs.
And then I wondered how many times I have people in my life balk at their “stairs,” and I sit there saying “WHY are you doing this? We’ve done it hundreds of times before…” and I don’t think about the fact that maybe today was just a hard day.
I’ve had those days when (maybe without even realizing it) I need my friend on the phone to be a little extra sympathetic. I’ve had days where I needed someone to listen without saying “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean, like this one time when I…” because the last thing I needed to do was to hear that someone went through the same thing with more courage or grace. I’ve had days where the cookies being just a little bit too burned done caused me to burst into tears, but if you’d asked me 2 minutes before I would have told you that nothing was wrong, and I would have believed myself too.
There’s going to be pain in this world. There’s going to be hard days. Sometimes, the hard things just wear on you without you even realizing it.
What I’ve learned from my dog, though, is that maybe one way for me to love people around me is to try to treat them all as if they’ve just had a hard day – giving them more patience and understanding than I normally would. I’ll always encourage them that they can take the stairs by themselves, but if they need me to carry them or hold their hand, then of course that’s what I’m going to try to do. Maybe that’s what love looks like sometimes.
Ephesians 4:2 – “Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”
[On a side note, I took Trixie for a ride in the car on Monday after posting the last blog, and she farted on me. No joke. Audibly farted on me. I think she didn't appreciate that blog.]
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