Three years ago, today, my family was getting ready to head to Lahey Hospital in Burlington from the nearby hotel where we checked in the night before. It was the day we had been praying for for a 368 days since I first learned my survival depended on a liver transplant.

It has been three years of bonus days, some harder than others, but bonus days nonetheless. Even bad days are kinda good when you know that you wouldn’t be alive under normal circumstances without a few, well-timed miracles.

In three years of bonus days I have performed the wedding ceremonies of my two boys. I’ve proudly witnessed my children accumulating degrees and certificates while they wore funny hats, coats and robes. I’ve made new friends, fallen in love with a new faith community and become part of a neighborhood that reminds me of times past where people care enough to watch out for each other and get involved.

Three years of bonus days.

I’ve pedaled a bicycle more than 2500 miles, walked and swam. I’ve been tossed around on a boogie board by waves on a Hawaiian beach. I’ve stood on mountain tops admiring the majesty of creation and have sat sipping coffee on beautiful summer days here on my front lawn,

Three years of bonus days.

I’ve watched sunsets with Robin and snuggled up by the wood stove while blizzards have roared outside our front door. I’ve tormented her with selfies while she has tried to shop and have made her laugh by being silly.

Three years of bonus days.

I’ve let my little fluff ball in and out thousands of times and spent hours waiting for her to find the perfect spot to pee. I’ve thrown the ball thousands of times and handed out treats each time she has brought it back. My little therapy dog does her job every day.

Three years of bonus days.

I’ve worried some, gotten anxious about too many things, been frustrated at times and scared now and then just like everyone else. Just … like … everyone … else. It feels so good to write those words.

Three years of bonus days.

I’ve cried happy tears off to the side every time my family has spent time together. Emotion still takes me by surprise. From standing on a balcony in Maui while watching my sisters laugh and play on the walkways below, to Thursday visits with my mom and dad, to catching my kids kissing their spouses … life tears are still just below the surface.

Three years of bonus days.

Work deadlines, messages to put together for Sunday mornings, task lists with too many tasks, big goals and dreams. I am working too much and always trying to find balance. Just … like … everyone … else.

Three years of bonus days.

Every day is a bonus day.

I am a blessed man. My Josh is a hero. But, what you need to know is that he is only one of three of my children who would do anything necessary to save my life. I had a list of 9 people on my potential donor list. Nine people. Wow. No words.

Every day is a bonus day.

Ps. 118:24 This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.