Finding God in the Hard and the Good

“We are not required to complete the task in front of us. But we are not allowed to not begin it.”

Emily McLaughlin serves as an Executive Director for Major Gifts in University Advancement.

 

“Is it time for ‘hard and good’?” was a typical line at the dinner table growing up. Each evening, as my siblings and I arrived home from basketball practice, after-school programs, or with takeout in hand, we would sit down to dinner and go around the table sharing one hard thing and one good thing about our day.

My parents started it. The rules were simple: everyone took a turn to share, no one left the dinner table early, side convos and jokes welcome. But when it was someone’s turn, you had to listen.

This led to some funny responses, like when my brother Jack, age 3, spent an entire year starting off dinners by huffing about the tragedy of having to share things with Missy and Forrest in his preschool. A bad day is now a “Missy and Forrest day.”

It kept us close, familiar with the daily triumphs and tragedies in each other’s lives, and everyone’s voice at the table mattered. Even on a decidedly boring day, you had to find one or two things that stood out.

Did I know my parents were running a kind of “daily examen for kids” on me? No, of course not. But then again, my dad is a former Jesuit, and my mom teaches at a Jesuit high school, so Ignatian tradition is kind of family tradition, I guess?

Reflecting on my “hard and good” is now a daily habit, and helps me to find God in all things. As I think about how my daily examen evolved, I realize that this simple dinner routine also taught me that it was possible to find a glimmer of joy or hope, even on hard days. To see that God was present in each moment. That each person deserves to be listened to carefully. And asks me to reflect softly and with humor on the day that passed, instead of rushing quickly into each coming day.

I remember asking my mom one day why she told us to share a “hard thing” and not a “bad thing.” She said she wanted to help us frame difficult moments as challenging but surmountable, and to look deeper at what the experience brought up in us—what emotions and responses emerged. We could not write off someone or something as "bad," skip it, and move forward without confronting it.

Then she said something that has stuck with me since: We are not required to complete the task in front of us. But we are not allowed to not begin it.

There are many hard and good moments that we venture through. Often not of our choice, often not on a preferred timeline, often with action steps required. And sometimes a little examen—even a kid version—helps remind me that God can be found right there with us.