Tomorrow

Tomorrow . . .

Little orphan Annie belts it out with all the gusto, confidence, and hope one could imagine in the big show-stopping number in the Broadway musical Annie . . . but, does tomorrow ever come?

I hope so.  I hope so because I have been banking on tomorrow for a long, long time.  It seems I have been saying it for forever . . . tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow . . . you’re only a day away.  My experience says that it is so, but time will be the final determinator of that.  Each night I go to bed, and tomorrow shows up like clockwork each day . . . but, is it borrowed time?

I saw my doctor for my quarterly check-up to go over the recent blood tests I had done.  The usual suspects showed up on the results that get sent to me—cholesterol and thyroid.  Been battling those two for a year now.  My employer provides health coverage that allows for quarterly blood tests, and thus it is that I go and visit with my doctor every three months.  I go to my doctor to get my results interpreted into language that a third grader can understand.  According to the printed explanations of the results I am knocking on heaven’s door, but according to the doctor I’m fine . . .

. . . but, there is plenty of room for improvement.

I always cringe when any doctor tells me that I have room for improvement . . . and, I especially cringe when two tell me this.  Yeah, I said, two.  It seems that God must think that I am a good guinea pig for individuals aspiring to be doctors . . . I always seem to get them.  My first encounter, after the nurse had assured me that my vitals were excellent, was a medical student doing a summer internship with my regular doctor.  She was the usual perky optimist, full of information that I already knew . . . but, I sat there, listened, nodded my head as if I was being enlightened for the first time, and was the good patient.  After assuring me that I was fine, she said, “But, there is room for improvement.”  Then she left the room . . . I thought, “Improvement . . . tomorrow.”

Next up were two doctors—the rookie and my regular doctor.  A lot less enlightenment, but a whole lot of emphasis on improvement.  What was the improvement they were suggesting?  Diet, exercise . . . the usual evil twins of the medical lexicon shared with those who are out of shape and on the heavy side of the scale.  Yeppers, that was me . . . in need of a diet and more exercise . . . and, I thought . . . tomorrow.

Isn’t that what we all do?  Isn’t that we do with the things in our lives that we really do not want to do . . . we put it off until tomorrow.  Tomorrow I will start that diet . . . tomorrow I will start exercising more . . . tomorrow I will, I will, I will.  But, we never do . . . well, at least the majority of never do.  Tomorrow is like New Year resolutions . . . the mouth is willing, but the body is not.  It never happens.

In the scripture reading we had in church the other day, Jesus is telling his followers that they need to be prepared . . . that they need to be ready.  Now, I know that he is talking about all things “faith”, and his second coming; but, at the same time, he is talking about anything that we need to do to improve our lives . . . we can’t put off what we should do today for tomorrow.  Tomorrow may never come . . . we could die in the middle of the night waiting for tomorrow to come.  There are no assurances that tomorrow will ever come.  Thus Jesus tells us that we need to be doing it now . . . that we need to be prepared . . . that we need to be ready.  There is always room for improvement.

Two tomorrows have passed by since seeing the doctor . . . no sign of that diet yet . . . no sign of that exercise.  I find a hundred excuses for not taking advantage of tomorrow despite it showing up every day . . . dieting sucks . . . exercise—at least exercise that benefits the body—hurts.  I figure I can improve . . . tomorrow.

I know that the definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.  I know that I will only get so many second chances . . . that at some point I am going to roll the dice and get crap.  Why worry?  Like little orphan Annie, I have all the gusto, confidence, and hope that tomorrow will come.  As she sings, “Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you, tomorrow . . . you’re only a day away.”

So, to my insurance company who tells me I can improve . . . to my doctor, who says I can improve . . . to my wife, who says I can improve . . . to my body, who says that I can improve . . . tomorrow!!  I will get around to it, tomorrow.  It is only a day away!