Yesterday was a day for bad days.
Everything went wrong.
Nothing went right.
I stepped in dog poop when I wasn’t looking and over-curled my hair so I looked like a poodle and ran into a spider web outside and discovered a rotted pumpkin on the hutch in the kitchen.
I awkwardly wasn’t funny when I really thought I was going to be and five different times I opened my mouth….
….and inserted my foot.
I wanted to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my poodle curls and start over.
I wish this was the part of the story where I tell you in spite of it being a not-so-very-good-black-cloud-poodle-hair kind of day…
…I was still super nice to everyone around me.
But I can’t. Because I wasn’t.
Not even a bit.
I frowned in WalMart and rolled my eyes in Dollar General and when I picked up one of the twins from basketball practice, I sighed impatiently and turned up the music on the way home because I didn’t want to talk.
We drove in silence down those winding country roads with Taylor Swift blaring in the background.
I didn’t say a thing.
I simply sat and stewed and thought about my hair and the rotted pumpkin and all the work I had to do and all the things that had gone wrong that day.
Why? I thought. Why did a bad day like this have to happen to me? Where’s the sunshine? Where’s the happiness?
Finally, we pulled up in front of the house. I grabbed my bags, shut the door and stomped up the front sidewalk. On the front porch I turned and looked around for my daughter.
Where was she? I thought to myself as I rolled my eyes.
“Whitney,” I yelled from the front porch. “Where are you? Come on. We only have a few minutes before we have to leave again for the game.”
From the other side of the car I heard a tiny voice, “Hold on a minute, Mom. I’ll be there in just a sec.”
“Now,” I said emphatically. “WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE.”
Then she came running up the sidewalk, book bag bouncing behind her, grinning from ear to ear, as she held out her phone.
“Wait until you see this,” she said excitedly. “You won’t even believe it.”
And then she paused and smiled, “It might make you happy.”
Irritatedly, I reached for the phone. Impatiently, I glanced down, expecting to see something on Facebook or a joke or a quote or something she thought was funny.
I saw this.
A beautiful, wonderful, awe-inspiring picture of the sunlight streaming through the clouds.
“Look,” she said pointing above us. “I just had to take a picture, Mom. It was so beautiful.”
I looked at that photograph again as my anger slowly melted away.
This glorious scene had been unfolding right over my head and I had been so focused on myself and my hair and my dog poop toes….
….that I had missed it.
I smiled through misty eyes at that tiny little daughter of mine and grabbed her hand and together we walked up the steps on a bright, shiny, sunny, joyful day.
The day was the same, but I was different.
A new perspective.
A new outlook.
A change of view.
Thanks to a tiny, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, grinning optimist who took a moment to remind me…
….to always look for the amazing. 🙂