Man and cane, bench and tree, sunsetNot So Good News

Listen, we’ve learned to handle news not so good
A doctors report or listen to that dentist drill
Afraid to open the latest mail,
Or read the media we’ve called social.
Good news is not always waiting on us.

Trust me. I know. Dread fills the moment
A good and steady stomach goes flip-flop,
Adrenalin flushes through our core,
Eyes and ears sharpen and muscles tense
Fight. Flight. Or, shout out, hurrah!

A letter unopened near the desk,
Clutched, crumpled, and clearly a mess.
What we’ve learned to do
It is not what we do best

Open, listen, read, and digest,

Through the years, I’ve cringed
When the phone rang late at night
Can anything be positive when darkness rules the corners?
An ominous voice or a weepy sound
Are you sitting down? Uh oh. Not good at all.

I’ve been on both sides, receiving and giving
It’s a challenge to say which I like better.
To share the sad news or be the one to receive it.
There’s no good way to say it or receive it.
Nor can we prepare ourselves for it.

Through time and experience, we have learned.
That “not so good news” sounds ominous, even stern
Pad the words with emotion, a pause, a haltering moment.
Fill in the blanks with a homily or two.
Not-so-good news still needs to be spoken and lived.

Too often, I’ve stood around the edge.
Of the priceless real estate, never to be sold or given away
Wishing I had spent the years better
Spoken the words more often
I miss you. I love you. Till next time.
I can’t wait to see you. One of these days. R-I-P.

But I believe in Good News.
Somewhere on the other side.
No one can explain it. It’s an impossibility.
My hope is in somewhere, and at some time
When “Not so good news” will be replaced…
Well Done… Enter in…


These past few years have been loaded with news that was not so good.
We struggled to stay positive. Yes. It’s difficult.
We wish this were not our lot in life to face,
but we must, do it well and full of grace.
The future rests on how we respond.
My grandmother always said,
and no matter her lot in life,
when you asked how she was, her words…now mine.


I do well.

By Michael Gurley

Making Sense of Life, One Thought at a Time!