There are those who scold us for our outpouring of grief in the wake of the Nov. 13 terrorist attacks on Paris. They try to make us feel guilty for not demonstrating the same grief over the slaughter in Beirut, Lebanon, just a day earlier, or the massacre in Kenya. Political correctness has no place in matters of the heart.
While I have no plans to live on Mars, I would like to start living more fully on planet Earth. I'm sure I'll still have to "take a minute" from time to time as my head and my heart continue to sync up. But in the meantime, I'd like to work on getting back to looking forward. I'd like to pencil in some hope.
Melissa doesn't believe that God or The Universe owed her something as precious and precarious as her husband's health. She accepts that life, often, is a crapshoot. And sometimes you get lucky, and sometimes you simply don't. And sometimes you get a mix -- and that's what Melissa got and she's grateful for it.
Last week, my 42-year-old dryer gave up the ghost, mid-load. Worse, I think I killed it. I put a wet heavy blanket in it and turned it on to the high cycle, something I've done numerous times before. But under the strain, its aged heart, er, power relay, gave out and it tumbled its last. Services are pending.