When our worst days are our best days in disguise

Let me start by saying everyone survived.

But I wasn’t sure that was how it would go down as I watched my family bounce away on a 24-foot raft on seas that were predicted to reach 5 feet along Kauai’s Na Pali coastline. The captain had given plenty of notice. She had said, “This day will stretch you way out of your comfort zone.” But she didn’t say that people would die, so there they sat on the rubbery sides of the boat as instructed, and not on the floor, where I would have wanted to be. They wore not a smidge of a lifejacket or even a pool noodle, which I would have asked to wear. 

But it didn’t matter. I was standing firmly on the shore waving, guarding my weak stomach that still hadn’t recovered from the winding mountain drive the day before, doing one of those mom prayers. It went something like, Lord, don’t take my husband. I don’t want to pay for the kids’ college all on my own. And please don’t let any of my children fall in. I’m not sure my husband will notice before it’s too late. Oh, and also I love them. 

But it was done. They were off. Nothing I could do. I wandered around a dusty bookstore in a nearby town for a handful of hours and then returned to the harbor just as a stiff wind starting blowing the ocean into gray peaks and the rain sideways into my eyes, as I scanned the horizon for their little boat. 

As expected, they returned dripping wet, with wide-eyed, harrowing stories, scuffed knuckles from holding onto the rope that kept them on the boat, and sore bodies from the rise and abrupt fall of the boat for hours on end. The captain said it was the worst conditions she had experienced. My youngest said, “I’m so glad you didn’t go, Mom!” My oldest crawled into the back of our rented Jeep and said, “That was the worst day of my life. And that was the best day of my life.” 

As we drove to the airport for our trip home they continued to tell me of their discoveries and physical pains and funny moments and sea creature sightings and fears from the day. I had wanted our family to make some memories in the waning months of my daughter’s senior year, and I thought to myself with satisfaction that we had certainly done that. They would never forget their crazy day on the ocean. But I also thought that so many of our worsts are also our bests. 

Take children for example. They are our best. They bring our greatest joy, our greatest sense of pride. Wring out the strongest of emotions. They are also our worst. They keep us up all night with worry and consternation. They keep a microscope on our faults and our faulty parenting. They drive us constantly toward emotional meltdown. The fact that we love them so much, is a big part of why parenting is so hard.

Think back to your hardest season at work or in school, the late nights and stress. These memories are often intertwined with some of our strongest memories of developing friendships, learning new skills, or overcoming obstacles. 

And I think this reinforces for me the fact that my life’s journey won’t be measured by what trials I went through or how hard I labored, but by how I traveled. I don’t get to choose my bests and worsts. I don’t get to choose whether there will be heartache or fear. There will be plenty of both. But I get to decide how I will live each moment - who I will be in the rough seas. 

I embrace the hard knowing that a great story is being written one day at a time. And it’s beautiful not because it is perfect but because it is blemished beyond belief and unpredictable. And without the hardest, the worst, some of the bests of my life would never be possible.