Lately, my wife and I have listened to problems fall down and stack up around us like walls of Lego blocks. So if we can’t see over them right now, could we at least listen to something different?
Like the blues. But let’s do something synthesized and danceable please. You know, something smooth — with big, shiny wheels to make us move.
And then my old band comes to the rescue with something unexpected.
“Some days are dry, some days are leaky
Some days come clean, other days are sneaky.
Some days take less, but most days take more”
Some Days Are Better Than Others.
Yes, Bono, that’s about right: Some days are better than others. It’s a good song. Minus the pain, frustration and disappointment, of course.
Like when the project funding dries up, suddenly, and leaves your wife looking for new work. A month before Christmas. That’s right. “Some days are bouncers that won’t let you in.”
Tonight, though, a three year-old manages to squeeze in. He stands in front of us, at the Lego table, with his back to us. He’s working with his own mess of colored bricks, though his long brown curls don’t move an inch. With the music playing over his head, he finally begins to ad lib.
“Every day is a good day because Jesus is alive,” he sings.
His gentle voice is unexpected, moving me in a new direction.
To stop my music. And listen.