We've all been there amid the storm, both literally and figuratively: the ferocious rainstorm that seemed never ending with raging torrents of water eliciting fear of drowning, the blinding blizzard making it impossible to see the front end of your car, not to mention the vehicles ahead of you; the enormous tornado cloud that surely brought a run-away train with it along with damaging wind and flying objects leaving both humans and structures battered...all storms that were potentially life-threatening and something you didn't want to be part of.

When I was an undergraduate student many years ago, a book entitled I’m Ok—You’re Ok by Thomas A. Harris, M.D., was very popular. The book’s subtitle is “A Practical Guide to Transactional Analysis,” and centers on a method for solving problems in life.

You know how you had life planned out...what you wanted and expected? Then, despite all the planning and dreaming, it didn’t turn out exactly how you thought it would. Looking back over my life, expectations, and hopes for the future, many things are different than I thought. And almost without exception, even when I couldn't see the road ahead, much turned out better than I could have envisioned.

I clearly remember her – not her name, but her…the patient on the oncology unit who talked wistfully about her long-standing desire to take art classes, specifically painting classes, when she retired. I was 45 years old when we met, and I made myself a promise that day. I vowed then not to wait until I no longer had kids at home, was older, retired, financially comfortable, or thought I had enough discretionary time to do fun, enjoyable, interesting, or mind-stretching activities. I wouldn’t wait.

There are times when irreconcilable circumstances happen – things that can’t be undone, like a cancer diagnosis, a tragic accident, or words that were said but can’t be unsaid. Each leaves a wound. Amid such difficulty, it can feel like a marathon that never ends.

She was diagnosed with cancer, underwent months of treatment and finally, she was in remission. Her hair had grown back; she was going to the gym; she was stronger.

His wife died six months ago. He was back at work the week after her death. He was paying the bills, doing the laundry, and cooking, which didn’t require much effort because he was rarely hungry.

How many of us have needed a bridge to cross difficult terrain or deep water to get to safer ground, whether literally or figuratively?

Even now, thinking about crossing the Royal Gorge Bridge many years ago triggers a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can still see my fingernails digging into the car’s dashboard and feel my heart pounding as I realized we were only halfway across what seemed like a mile-long span. The bridge was strong but so was my extraordinary fear of heights.

I remember being excited about getting our first car GPS system. I was both amused and frustrated when, upon taking a different route than the one outlined in the system, the voice would say, “Recalculating! Recalculating!” Amused… that it responded that way; frustrated… when it kept repeating the phrase over and over.

He was walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings, absorbed in the video on his iPhone. There was no awareness of the uncovered manhole ahead, until he found himself tumbling into semi-darkness, 10-feet underground. Stunned, but coming to his senses, he yelled for someone to come to his aid, to help him out of the deep hole. He heard a voice above him – the voice of a priest. Thank God, he thought. The priest offered a prayer on his behalf, and walked on.