Tomorrow is a New Day

I have had an absolutely horrible week, and it is only Tuesday! But, ever the optimist, I can see that my glass has been more half full than half empty this week.

I was doing some volunteer work on Sunday and on my way home I slipped on a patch of black ice (no, I was not wearing stiletto heels). Not wanting to fall on the side of my body that had the still healing broken arm (and carrying my new laptop on my shoulder of that arm); I fell on my right side. There is probably no doubt that I have broken at least one or two ribs. The Mayo Clinic website, one of the internet “bible” sites for all things health related, confirms that it is a break.

As is my pattern (I hate going to doctors, hospitals, pills), I do nothing about it. After all, I have to appear in court on Monday, the next day, on an important matter for a client. So, I suck it up and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Jim drives me to court on the Monday morning. I can’t even put the tabs on my legal garb and I ask someone in the lawyer’s robing room to help me. She says I might want to consider asking for an adjournment since I am in obvious pain. I can see the concern in this complete stranger’s face that I might be putting myself in harm’s way. For reasons important only to me and my client, I don’t want to do that.

To put it succinctly, I am negatively and absolutely and without doubt creamed and devastated before the judge. I’m not going to go into the whole story of my very public tongue lashing in front of the court. Just trust me that it was not an entirely pleasant experience.

I leave the court, tail between my legs (I didn’t lose the case; the judge did give me an opening to come back and convince him that I am right and he is wrong). I call Jim, my harbour for my soul, but I can’t get in touch with him (my fault, not his). I try to walk to the subway, but I am carrying a purse, my bulky robes and tabs, and a full briefcase of legal documents. I’m not sure I can make it home given those weighty burdens, the pain in my body, and the fresh psychological scars.

A taxi driver out of nowhere stops and asks me if I am okay. He is not asking for the fare; he says he sees something that he was genuinely concerned about, about me. I tell him that I don’t have enough cash for the fare back home; he says it doesn’t matter: he will only charge me what I have. We end up talking about me and my physical and emotional pain and he is so empathetic that I want to just weep on his shoulder (I think cab drivers are sometimes the most interesting and angelic people we meet in Toronto).

I don’t weep; I hold the tears in my throat. I have to wait until I get home to Jim. Jim is my life’s solace.

I make a plan to call people who will help me to get beyond the psychological pain that I was subjected to that morning. Jim supports the plan. I call one of the greatest people in the world, Stefan (Steven) Bojeczko who is one of the most brilliant and compassionate lawyers I know. He talks me down off the ledge. He tells me stories that help me to understand that the experience is not about “me”; it is all about the particular culture of the litigation world. He offers help; he offers suggestions; but most of all he reminds me of lessons that get us through life. I tell him I am hanging up my robes (the equivalent of throwing in the litigation towel). Not right, Brenda, he says: because I believe in you.

In his analogy, you will try to learn how to ride a bike and you will fall off of the bike sometimes. Not because you don’t know how to ride the bike. It is always because there is an obstacle in front of you that wasn’t there yesterday. And so you hurt. Okay. Okay. It is okay to hurt. But get back on the bike. It is not because you can’t ride a bike; it’s just that you have to accept the obstacles that come completely out of nowhere, out of your control, but within your ability to face them the next time.

I speak to my special law school friend who went to Osgoode with me and is extraordinarily intelligent. We decide that the judge is wrong. However, that’s not the point; the point is that I have to figure out how to get from today to when I appear back in front of the judge and how I can fortify myself with the armour that I need. She offers to put her life on hold to help me source out whatever I need to shield myself from those bullying tactics.

Completely out of the universe then comes a flurry of calls and e-mails from people who have no idea what my last two days had been like. Friends and family who “just happened to reach out”. I know that there is nothing random about those phone calls. Those friends and family were delivered to me through some life force that I will never completely understand. Each one of them helped me in their own special and unique way. At the end of the night, I felt blessed. I am not healed, but I am blessed with people who come to my corner and wipe away the blood, and the sweat, and the tears. And they tell me that I can get back into the ring for another round.

My eldest daughter, Lynn, was the one who, metaphorically, put me back on the bike and ran along beside me. “Call the doctor tomorrow, Mom. Promise me. And I will hold you accountable because I’ll check back with you before noon tomorrow to make sure you have done that” (She did check back). “I’m driving down to Toronto tomorrow to be there for you; tell me what you need; tell me how I can give back to you what you have given to me. Help me to help you to heal, because you so rarely ask for help.” Let me run alongside you and keep you safe and put a smile back on your face. And, today, she did. My beautiful daughter taught me that life always gives back to you what you have put into it.

There are so many other people who called or emailed me out of nowhere that I could write a book about this one small experience and how people pay it back and pay it forward. I am awed at the amazing ability we have to reach out and heal each other. I am grateful that I have been given the grace that was delivered to me by whatever caused my phone to ring off the hook last night and by the flood of completely random e-mails that were like a band aid on my soul.

I will blog about what happened today when I did get my health checked out. It will be a rant about uncompassionate doctors who didn’t really understand the Hippocratic Oath. But, tonight I don’t want to rant. I just want to feel blessed and healed by the love that surrounds my life.

Notwithstanding the potholes, and bumps, and bullies, and hurts, I do lead a Wonderful Life.


And as Kelly summed it up so well in an email quote of Ralph Waldo Emerson, which was designed to remind me of who I am and how I can heal at a time of immense ache:

"Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could.Some blunders and absurdities no doubt crept in; forget them as soon as you can. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense."

Tomorrow is a new day for you and for me.

If I can be as blessed with the love that has surrounded me this week, I will begin it well.

For all of you who were there for me over the past two days – and for those who wished that you could have been if only the randomness of life had tapped you on the shoulder – I am ever so grateful. It reminds me of the power of love that we all have within us.

If I can ask you to do one thing after reading my story, I would ask you this.

The very next moment that you are in the presence of someone who is hurting: reach out and give them a hug or a pat. A caveat, though, you may have to do it gently: they could have broken ribs.

You will, nevertheless, be healing their heart. And you alone hold that power because of who you are.

You wouldn’t be reading this if I didn’t believe that about you.