Helped him lift his car out of a ditch, and got a lower back injury.
Separated a fight, and felt a blow on the cheek doing so.
Bent down to pick up her pen for her, and we butt heads badly.
Told a friend the helpful truth kindly, and she got defensive as well as very offensive.
… and many other stories of good turning towards ugly. But they can’t stop us; we still choose be beautiful in that way.
We ought never feel bad for helping honestly, and trying sincerely. But sometimes it is hard to laugh at the outcome. And one wonders what the lesson was that was there.
In that apparent randomness of life exerting itself because of our good, providing opportunities for pain to live through and laughter to remember, regret has no place if the motive was correct.
To our soldiers; to those on hospital beds, to them who now only live in some record or memory; to those who came out on wheel chair, and those with prosthetics, and to the others needing to recover, words are not enough. But we say, well done, and thank you. We show it too.