It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It was life. It was beautiful. Even when it wasn’t, it was. Does that even make sense? Let me explain.
As Charles Dickens famously opened A Tale of Two Cities in 1859: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…” That captures the push-pull of existence perfectly—the highs and lows crashing together, shaping us in ways we can’t always see at the time.
I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. From an early age, I knew what it felt like to not have much. Yes, I have eaten government cheese. With a little bit of salt, it isn’t too bad. I had hand-me-down clothes and probably shopped at thrift stores long before it was cool. What did I learn from it? You do what you have to survive and be grateful. There are always others that have it much worse.
Those early struggles built a foundation of resilience. Like the 19th-century poet Thomas Carlyle reflected during times of economic hardship: “Adversity is the diamond dust with which Heaven polishes its jewels.” It wasn’t easy, but it taught me to cherish what I had and keep moving forward.
I remember being a freshman in college and having my first stupid run-in with credit card debt. It was crushing me. I owed a couple of thousand dollars and I asked my dad to help me pay it off. He told me no. He could have helped, but he was teaching me a valuable lesson. I had to learn how to manage my money and take care of myself.
That “no” was tough love at its finest. Benjamin Franklin, ever the voice of frugality in his 1730s Poor Richard’s Almanack, warned: “Rather go to bed supperless than rise in debt.” I understand that so much better having gone through it.
When my bride and I got married, we were broke broke. One broke doesn’t fully explain it. But we had each other, a place to call home, food on our tables, and we had each other. We weren’t poor at all. We have just gone up from there. We have now been married over 26 years and have had a beautiful marriage and have raised a wonderful son.
Our love proved unbreakable amid the scarcity. William Shakespeare put it timelessly in Sonnet 116 around 1609: “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.” We’ve climbed together, turning those lean years into a legacy of joy and family.
When I went through cancer, my body hurt and I didn’t know what the future looked like. But I had my faith in God, my wife and son, my friends and family. I had hope that the prescribed treatment would work and one day I would again be cancer-free. It did. A prayer was answered. I am cancer-free.
In the darkest moments, hope and support carried me. Viktor Frankl, drawing from his Holocaust experiences in Man’s Search for Meaning (1946), reminded us: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude.” I chose faith and gratitude, and it led to healing.
In each situation above, there was bad times and good times. There was love and heartbreak. There was joy and frustration. And at the center of it all? A life that I am so grateful and excited to live. God has been so good to me. I can’t help but be thankful in the good times and the bad times. In the end, it is the life I have lived and I love it.
Life’s duality isn’t a bug—it’s the feature that makes it profound. What’s your “best of times, worst of times” story? I’d love to hear it in the comments.
