Everything I Need to Know I Learned From Max

When my 5 year old grandson Max goes to bed each night, he closes his eyes to say his prayers and starts with "Dear God, thank you for a good day."

A few months ago after a particularly rough day for Max and his mom, he wasn't too sure about saying his prayer like that.

"It wasn't a good day was it Mom?"

"Yes Max, it was a good day. You're here safe in your bed, we have a roof over our head, and we have food in our tummys. "

"It was a pretty good day, wasn't it Mom."

Around here it's pretty easy to become disillusioned and complain about our lot in life. It's easy to bitch about having to stumble through the mud in the pitch black with a colored flashlight to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. The grumbles come pretty easy when the email and the phones go down for days at a time, or when the mail doesn't come for a week and a half. A scowl is pretty easy on weekends and holidays when your wife and family are literally on the other side of the world and it's been months since you've been able to hold them.

Yesterday, after what I initially thought was a pretty crappy day, and was finding it easy to wallow in a big tub of self-pity, I finally crawled into bed. I stared into the dark and thought about Pam. I thought about my family, and I thought about Max.

No rockets exploded in the FOB today, and all the aviators all returned under their own power. The marines all returned from their patrols, and there wasn't a commander thinking about how to write a difficult letter. It was a pretty routine day at the hospital and none of the troops had to ride the MEDEVAC to Bagram or back to Landsthul. My family was safe, I was in a warm bed, and I certainly haven't missed any meals. So while tomorrow I may be able to complain about the lobster in the dining facility being overcooked, last night, I had to close my eyes and say "Dear God, thank you for a good day.