Hope, yes. I hope for a miracle. I hope for the grace to allow me to keep doing hat I have to do to help Barb and the dogs for as long as I can last.
But optimism's a harder road.
In the face of high fevers and a throat-and-gut ripping cough, and chest pain and other things I'd rather not describe in this cancerous smorgasbord, there's something else.
Optimism isn't how you feel.
It's how you act.
It's what you do.
It's looking up and forward in your speech, holding to the promise of the moment, and the dreams of tomorrow.
It's working toward goals...like next year's rose garden...that you may never see. But working anyway. (No, I'm not a gardener...I just thought this would be a better example than 'fabricating aeroplane parts.)
There's no perfection here. I get discouraged, and say things like, "This is NOT gonna end well." But I try to say it with a smile, and pass it off as a joke.
It's OK to slip. It's just not OK to stop.
I mean, look at Ps. 1:1 (NIV):
Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers,
Two of these involve stopping. So, like Churchill said,
If you're going through hell, keep going.
And what better music than Fleetwood Mac, with Don't Stop?
Thanks to Carol Ashby, Blessed Are The Pure Of Heart is back on Kindle, and will be available in paperback soon.
Friends are everything. I couldn't have done it.