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Remember the Bumps

Yesterday I swept the shop floor at my son Tim's rock yard. James worked on a dump truck nearby. "When I was ten, I swept my Dad's shop floor for fifty cents a day. Now I'm fifty-six, and sweeping the shop floor for free." James nodded and shot back,
"Yes, but you had a pretty good bump there in the middle."
Pretty good bump, indeed!
I swept on, humbled once again. Times may be tough, but shouldn't we remember the bumps? Ah, yes. The bumps.
The business is gone, but we rocked our world (both literally and figuratively) in a big way, building natural rock walls from 'purtneer Canada' to jes about Mexico'. That was a bump, all right.
This morning I combed my hair and listened to the amazing cacophony of crunching and snapping in my left shoulder. That would be from the broken collarbone in '06.
Hmm. But the bump? Our team won that race, 'Vegas to Reno' in our class. Won the championship that year, too. Nice bump. Perhaps the crunching dip should remind me of the bump.
Do we see the nice car we're driving, or zero in and focus on the scratch, or dent?
The spouse driving you crazy? Come on, lots of bumps there.
Losing money, wealth, investments, toys or things? Those were the bumps.
So, be thankful for the bumps, even when you're in a dip. Who knows? Before long you may be standing on top of a bump again.
Thanks, James.