Today I spent the bulk of my day in someone else's attic packing up their stuff that has been in that attic for no less than 3 years just waiting to be moved to it's permanent home. The time has finally come. The friend that owns the stuff wailed, truly, full-out wailed, when I told her my dad had died. She wailed so loud and it startled me so bad that i honestly thought something else had happened at her own home that I hadn't heard over the phone. Once she settled and I told her what had happened the first thing she said after her condolences was "I've already checked and plane tickets are (x) dollars. I can be there if you want me to." That stands as one of the sweetest offers I got from anyone in that whole time around his illness and death. I told her I thought I'd be okay and to just "put on the hog" when I went down to visit her. Meaning, do it up big, which she kind of always does anyway.
So, although I don't like getting dirty. I hate being hot and icky. And I probably won't even get to see her for 10 minutes, if that, when she comes to get her stuff. I am packing it up for her. Because I am that kind of friend. I believe that she would do the same for me if the rolls were reversed. And even if she wouldn't (which would be a long-shot and would have some seriously messed up and convoluted story behind it), that's just the person I am.
Because, I guess, I function on hope. I guess I see life through hope colored glasses. Much more than I realized before this moment that I typed that out. I do this for her because I believe and hope that she would do the same. There was a whole issue with another friend's mom's lawn not getting mowed and I told her I would take care of it if need be for the exact same reason, because I believed she would do the same for me.
I work with my students at U-WI-Whitewater because I Hope that it will have an impact. I hope that they will be different and better than they were if I stayed at home immersing myself in sitcoms and crime dramas.
I write my novels because I hope that someone will read them and see God in a different way. Or be entertained without pages of X-rated material to distract. Or see relationships or friendship in a different light.
Before this post I would have declared, vehemently, that I am a pessimist. The glass is not only half empty, it is usually cracked and sitting precariously on the edge of the table and if anyone even breathes in its general direction it will fall off and shatter. I focus on the wrong side of the coin. I focus on the things that do go wrong. On the things that aren't what I desire them to be. The things I can't fix or control or can't get a handle on. Instead of focusing on the things that have gone so very very right. The things that are exactly what I have prayed and worked for them to be. The things I have fixed or given up attempting to control or have gotten a solid handle on.
Note to self: Look at your Self through those Hope colored glasses. Someday someone will think you are stunning and delightful (Thanks Lori!) and will want to stick around "til death do us part."