Life. It’s a funny thing. Everything is always going well until it isn’t.

Imagine having a picnic in a park. Picture a clear spring day with a hint of wind rustling the trees; with rays of sunshine tickling your skin. Calmly you’re eating your carefully prepared finger sandwiches and chicken salad and possibly warm chocolate chip cookies packaged in plastic wrap and balanced in an old, wicker basket. You're confident with every aspect of your life without a care in the world.

Then, the next thing you know, you’re awakened from this whimsical day dream by the screeching sound of a freight train barreling through your perfectly serene sanctuary. And though you are not within miles of any sort of train track—there it is. Looming before you, a beast of a machine, derailed, off the tracks, spraying a mess of dirt and sod as it tears it’s way through the field, and all of your prepared foods left uneaten are being scattered in every direction. The once quiet air is filled with squeaking sounds and the whine of gears; crunching of metal. You're sent scrambling for your bag—sprinting, stumbling and trying not to be turned into massive locomotive roadkill abandoning all priorities except saving your own life.

And just like that…it’s over.

But that’s also a funny thing about life. That even though the freight train has ripped through, leaving your previously perfect day as a tattered shred of broken cookies and torn blankets and grass made mulch the fact is; the park is still a park. The trees are still trees and the grass is still grass and even if you are now covered in dirt and grass stains and you may have lost your shoes in the previous scramble for your life, you are fundamentally still you. The massive freight train has come to rest, burrowed four-feet deep into the earth, resting on it’s side like a black scuff mark on a freshly buffed white floor. And sooner or later, the smoke clears and the dust settles. Machines are brought in to tow the twisted remnants of train away to the scrap yard, the holes in the grass are filled in with new soil and new grass seed. Flowers sprout, birds start chirping again and people return to have picnics in the park on sunny afternoons with chocolate chip cookies in old wicker baskets.

And you know what?

Life. Goes. On.