A Long Line of Chocolates

by Hurls · August 9, 2025

You remember the scene, I’m sure. Most of us saw it in reruns, but it’s comedy genius. Lucy and Ethel, working the assembly line in a candy factory. It begins easily enough, a slow parade of chocolates, the ladies individually wrapping each one. Lucy remarks, “This is easy enough,” and Ethel nods in assent. Ah, the naivete!

Incrementally, the conveyer belt increases and soon our heroines are overwhelmed. Eating some, stuffing some in their hats or shirts, on the floor, anything to keep up with the unforgiving stream of candy. The eyes, the faces, the frantic arms and hands. If you haven’t seen the clip in a while, it’s worth three minutes to bring a smile to your face. LUCY!

Did you watch it? As I said, comedy genius.

Life has felt this way lately, maybe the past month or two, but not with a generous dose of humor or velvety sweet chocolates. No, more in the sense of trying to endure a relentless wave of trials. Just tough times all around.

Consider, recently I’ve seen…

My son-in-law’s brother-in-law (did you catch that?) was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Went to the hospital for a severe headache and rushed to surgery in just a few days. It was fast! Thankfully, the tumor is benign, but he has a significant recovery ahead (he’s already returned to the hospital once), as do his wife and kids.

A friend died a few weeks ago from ALS. We weren’t besties, but I had both his two kids in class at Wheeling HS. Great wife and children. His suffering is over, but his family, as you would expect, is grieving. A horrible disease has struck down a fine man.

Another friend has a legion of kidney stones rattling around his gut, hovering like a squad of winged monkeys. They descend at will, rendering him with violent pain until the stone (or stones) passes. Also, his brother-in-law was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. It’s not looking good.

An out of state buddy has dropped off the grid. We used to communicate quite regularly; now, I’m not even sure what is going on. Messages sent, nothing in return. I really hope he’s okay. More chocolates, bitter bites arrive faster & faster on the assembly line.

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the tragic floods here in Texas on July 4th. Though I know nobody personally affected, many friends here have connections with that region or know people there. The devastation along the Guadalupe River and all over Kerr County has deeply touched folks here, myself included.

A few friends are struggling, I mean really struggling, with mental health issues. Anxiety and depression top the list, and it’s tough to watch. Sometimes, I’m not even sure how to best serve them. What do they need? This is a whole different set of issues compared to the physical health challenges.

There’s a woman with a recent cancer diagnosis, another with heart issues, and a guy with the beginning stage of Alzheimer’s. A friend lost her sister, and another friend lost her mom. Both were sudden, without warning. Both left gaping holes in the lives around them. I hurt for them, though I have no experience for those particular pains.

All of this falls within the frame of what life was like before the past month or so. Violet Ruth Bond entered our lives (more like a galloping rhino, really) on March 17th, a precious baby but one who wants to be nurtured and fed and entertained and all the things babies want all the time. Infants are like that.

And Melanie’s rehab from our car accident last September continues, slowly, ever so slowly. Pain in her back and neck persists, a challenge whether she is awake or asleep. She still sleeps in a recliner. The doctor appointments and rehab continue as well. Just more chocolates on the conveyer.

I’m not complaining. Honest, I’m not. There are many excellent things in life as well. Reading an animal book with Ruby after we visit the library or a turkey sammy while I drop my thoughts in Hurl’s Treehouse, a good workout or watching some Netflix with Melanie. My health is generally good, you know, for 65 years old.

This post isn’t an invite to a pity party. Hey, it’s a big, beautiful world out there. Nature provides breathtaking splendor, as well as quiet respites from the noise and clutter. Sunsets and big puffy clouds and mourning doves nesting in our Texas Oak, all positives if you take the time to see them.

Big and beautiful this world is. But it’s also pretty broken.

Maybe it’s just me, the lament of a growing older guy. These days, I’m feeling a bit breathless, and there are times I’d like to tap out. You get to be my age, and physical and other ailments proliferate–for me, my family, and my circle of friends. Bodies and brains aren’t designed to last forever. Aging, as they say, ain’t for the faint of heart.

What to do? Most of you know I’m a Jesus guy. (I won’t try to shoehorn Jesus into the candy assembly line. You get the analogy.) I have been a Christian for decades, unabashed and without apology, a real believer. When tough times come, and it seems to be in ever-increasing waves these days, I recall my hope is not in this life. This isn’t paradise and I’m not guaranteed a happy, trouble-free time on earth.

The point is this: I ache and groan and weep over life just like anyone else. We all have our difficult seasons, and I won’t go toe to toe comparing my woes with yours. This isn’t Hooper and Quint comparing scars in Jaws. Many folks have much more to deal with than I do. Some far more than me. I get it.

*If you don’t know the scene, HERE it is.*

So, what do I do in a stormy season? I remember my Savior and the hope of things to come. Grace is amazing, as is love and mercy and hope. I’m encouraged by prayer and hymns and conversations with other believers. I listen to sermons and podcasts by those who are wise and seasoned. I pause and reflect and remember.

I’ll end with a question, an honest query. We all have our tough times. If you’re not a Jesus guy or gal, what do you do? Stoically grin and bear it? Focus on family and friends? Wish for positive vibrations or thoughts? Immerse yourself in entertainment or some other pleasure to forget the pain?

I’m not being self-righteous or superior in any way because I’m not better. No, no, no. That’s not my intent at all. I really don’t know your answer. Especially as you get older, if not faith, what are you holding on to?

Some days lately I fell like I’m surviving the waves. When I finally lay my head on my pillow, I thank God for making it through another day. Lately, I wonder how others do it.

Thanks for reading! I truly appreciate it.

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Coming soon! Tales from the Deli, a collection of short stories.