Options

Options. Sounds like a fun word. Chocolate or strawberry? Walk or bike? Car or SUV? Cat or dog? Green dress or cute black one? Stay in the current job...make the move to the start up? Tiffany or Teardrop setting for the engagement ring? These are all kinda fun options. Yet some people get overwhelmed with the small challenges of deciding even the fun stuff. We are required to sift through options and make decisions every....single...day....all...day...year after year.

When Jim writes about his running, he has options. Where to run for that day. What to pick up on that run that is worthy, in his opinion, of the effort to carry it home, and makes interesting and quirky conversation. What items get sorted and kept, and which are for the sake of the grins or the photo and then get moved to the recycle bin with a thank you and adios, as Jim would say.

But, what happens when options are about not so fun stuff. What facility can we go to? What care level is paid for under the insurance plan? Sometimes the options are whittled down without your permission or preference. How can you possibly prepare for all the options and lack of options life brings?

I guess we hope for the best, live the best way we know how, and get the best parachute we can along the way. Even the parachute decision has options.

If we let it, the stress and, in some cases burden of making countess decisions and choices will overtake the joy and privilege of even having options. And, it is a privilege to have options. Even if we didn't see this coming. This weird, unexpected, bizarre, freak of an incident that has stolen Jim's well being...our life...even for awhile. Jim had the option to run. Like every other day. Or to stay in bed. He ran.