Best Day Ever

An Essay From the Archives

As we head into March, I am reminded of an essay I wrote years ago that was prompted by a long-ago winter moment. I hope you find glimmerings of uplift and inspiration within it…

My six-year-old son and I are standing outside the classroom door. It's a cold and dreary Wednesday morning, and we've just muddled through the before-school ritual of dress-eat-gather-and dash out the door. We're standing here with a few other kids and assorted parents, waiting for the day to begin.

Mrs. Walter opens the classroom door, peeks her head into the hallway, and waves to her students. Kids pick up their oversized backpacks, mumble their goodbyes, and slowly make their way toward their beloved teacher's open arms.

I spy my friend Amy near the door. I watch her kneel down in front of her son. She places her hands on this small boy's shoulders and looks directly into his eyes, as if  - for this moment - no one else in the world exists.

"Best day ever," she chirps with a smile. And then she kisses her son on the cheek and dashes down the art-strewn hallway and off into her day.

I think about this moment all day long. It was an instant, really, over in two breaths. It would have been so easy to miss in the crowded corridor amid our own goodbyes. But something about what I witnessed won't let me go. Like a bell pealing through the sky, that moment startled me out of my self-absorbed reverie and awakened some possibility within.

Best Day Ever. Could this grey and ice-strewn day in the thick of midwestern winter possibly be the best day we've ever had? Is it, perhaps, over-reaching a bit to suggest that this is the best day ever to a six-year-old boy on a cold morning inside a little school in a nondescript city in Ohio? And on a Wednesday in February, no less?

Amy's words ring through the morning, as my toddler and I putter about at home, cleaning up the oatmeal and lying on the carpet with legos and the cats, counting the hours until we schlepp back to school to retrieve big brother.

Best Day Ever. Is it a wish, as in, "I hope you have the best day ever"?

Is it an instruction, like, "Please do what you can to make this the best day in the world"?

Or, perhaps, it is a truth, a revelation: "You may not see it right now, but if you incline your eyes in just the right way, you will see that this ordinary day is actually the best day ever - the only chance you have to be fully alive - in the whole wide world."

A few days later, with snow melting into slush, Amy and I meet again in front of the classroom door. When the door opens, Amy repeats the same goodbye with her son: a hug, a kiss and a "Best day ever." This is a ritual, I see, a parting offering she leaves with her son every single day.

I begin to look forward to hearing her sing out these words in the morning rush, as if some of the shininess of her blessing might spill in our direction. Her words echo through my brain and rekindle some hopeful warmth in my heart. I begin to wonder whether my family, too, could make this the best day ever. Maybe we could try a little harder, rising to the challenge of making something beautiful and bright with the gift of this day we have been given. But what would that even look like?

Best Day Ever. This is a strange memory to slip to the surface right now. So many days, the world seems to be falling apart, with society's weakest links painfully exposed, and with so many people suffering so deeply. Panic floods my chest when I peer too far into our collective future.

My panic eases, though, when I reel my mind in from the distant future and rest it closer to the here-and-now. Life feels a little more manageable when I focus my eyes on the hot mug of tea in my hands, the cardinals at the feeder, the voices of family nearby. Maybe the answer - now and always - is to take good care of the present and trust that the future will take care of itself.

It's that old story about driving at night down a country road: Your headlights only need to throw enough light to see a little way down the road, and in that way, mile by mile, the headlights guide us safely home. The more distant future is too much to grasp. But perhaps we can gracefully manage the gift of this day, this moment, this breath.

Or, as theologian Henri Nouwen wrote: "The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step that follows, with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let’s rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away."

Best Day Ever. What if this is the answer to the question of how to live our lives in any given day? What if the answer is right in front of us, in this breath? What if we take up the challenge of shining brightly today? What if we use this moment to bridge the gap between ourselves and others, to live into the deep and mysterious connections that bind us together through love? What if we use our energy to shine a little light into the world, in whatever way we can?

This possibility echoes through my mind each morning as I sit quietly and contemplate the day ahead. Best Day Ever fills me with possibility and hope. It feels like a challenge we are invited to rise to meet, with strength and a tender heart. I breathe in the freshness of the morning, gaze at the twittering of the birds, and squint into the rays of the rising sun. I peer into the long stretch of the day ahead, and I ponder how I can coax life into deepest bloom, not just for myself but for others, too.

Maybe today we'll make super-thick chocolate milkshakes and sip them in front of the fire. Maybe we'll sit shoulder-by-shoulder at the puzzle table, with an audio book droning on beside us. Maybe we'll head down the road together in the dimming light to watch the sun set over the neighborhood field. Maybe we'll create something beautiful: music or stories or cards to send to faraway friends.

This might be a good day to make a phone call to a friend who is living alone. To reach out to others, near and far, and to rise up in ways that allow others to have Best Days, too. Maybe we can use today's blank slate to learn more about the world around us, to contemplate how we might help create a happier and more loving world for all. The possibilities are endless.

The ancient sages taught that each day is a lifetime, and the world is born anew each day. The sun rises and a new life is placed into our hands. It is ours to do with what we like - to squander or to savor. We have until the sun sets this evening to bring our world into fullest light and fullest bloom. And then it is gone forever.

Night falls and then tomorrow, if we are lucky, the sun will rise again. And another Best Day Ever will be born.