The hours are long, the pay is not as much as one would like and there are some people you deal with who aren’t the most courteous.

Yet, I’d have to admit I love my job. And, it’s all because there are times when a person restores my faith in humanity.

The other night, following a meeting I attended, a person went into a tirade on how negative my reporting is.

According to this person, I never have anything good to write about.

In his words:

“When I see you around Winnebago, you’re probably looking for something to dig up. It either has to be bad or negative for you to even be interested.”

I couldn’t believe that’s the type of person he thinks I am.

His impression of me couldn’t be further from the truth.

So, I can’t understand why his comments bothered me so much.

His words kept replaying in my mind over and over throughout the night.

Believe me, there’s no truth to the adage:

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

It was that night I realized how much I care about what people think of me.

Those feelings must have taken root in my childhood.

I remember being teased about my appearance and how isolated and inferior that made me feel.

But, my parents and grandparents would always come to the rescue and tell me not to pay attention to what anyone said.

Because I was practically raised by my grandmother on my father’s side, she had her fair share of consoling a kid with a bruised ego.Needless to say I thought of her as my Guardian Angel.

Often, I close my eyes and visualize her comforting nature.

The other day when I was feeling down and sorry for myself, which I do have a tendency of doing, someone paid me an unexpected visit at the Register.

The person was trying to put the pieces of her life back together following the tragic death of a spouse.

Before returning to work, she needed to wrap up some loose ends.

For now, that’s all that was left in her life — doing the things that were necessary so she could move on.

When she spoke I heard and felt the pain in her voice. I could see it in her eyes.

Occasionally she would tear up.

I couldn’t think of anything to say, other than I was sorry for her loss and wondered out loud why bad and unexplainable things have to happen.

Without hesitation her response was — God has a plan; a purpose and reason.

Life goes on.

What a brave and courageous woman. She had an inner faith that was helping her cope.

My problems — whatever they were — no longer seemed that important.

I got to thinking — which can be dangerous at times — how quickly our lives pass and how life is unpredictable and can be unfair.

But, there are also a lot of good times along the way that outweigh the bad.

Perhaps that’s the thing to remember.

Also, everyday tell those who are close to you how much they mean to you.

And, seize the moment. Live today as if it were your last.

Because, it very well could be.