A Life Filled With Hope

When I was 20 and recently engaged, my future husband took me to his grandmother's one Sunday afternoon. After a true Southern meal of fried chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, fried okra, green beans, and corn bread, the women of the family gathered on the front porch to discuss life and the general state of things. As I sat and listened to those women prattle on about every topic known to man, I remember thinking that this was a bunch of the most cynical, disagreeable, unhappy women I had ever heard talk. They were man haters, penny pinchers, story tellers, and violence threateners. In so many words, they proclaimed the world was going to hell in a handbasket, and that this was the end of days foretold in Revelations. I was only 20, had a whole lot of living to do to get to their age, was madly in love with my fiance, was filled with optimism and promise, and was determined to live happily ever after. As I listened to them talk, I swore I would never become one of those old biddies, several of whom were the same age I am now, nearing 50.

Flash forward to today. I am 4 months shy of 50. Still waiting on the end of days predicted in Revelations, because I hear someone predict it every day. I teach and look at the kids in my 8th grade classroom and think, "When I am an old lady living in a nursing home, these kids will be the ones changing my diaper and rotating me so I won't get bedsores!" It's a little scary.

Their anthem is "Waiting on the World to Change" by John Mayer. They already sound cynical and seem woefully unprepared to take on the challenges of a life where they will be using technologies we have not even seen yet. More importantly, I see many who are so locked into the technology of today they don't seem to be able to communicate "normally". But those same kids delight me every day. Their observations and commentaries are insightful. They write with depth and intelligence. Sure, they communicate a lot differently than I did at that age, but they are not stupid.

Our world is in way worse shape than it was nearly 30 years ago. The economy is tanking. The wars are going badly. People are angrier and angrier, and there seems to be little relief. I find myself in danger of becoming one of those old biddies. The world is still going to hell in a handbasket. It is just carrying different problems than it did when I was younger. We are in charge now and we aren't doing too well right now. We are so worried about the next generation because we need them to straighten out the mess we are making for them.

But then I look into the eyes of my eighteen-month-old niece, Stella. She smiles at me and I see hope. My nephew Mark, a 21-year-old boy, who visited me with his girlfriend last Sunday, is a good man who thinks of others and strives to do the right thing. In him I see the promise of youth. My other seventeen nieces and nephews all various ages from 3 months to 21 years old all give me hope for the future. I am still optimistic.

Christmas at my house was filled with three generations of family. We laughed together, exchanged gifts, and shared a great meal. We talked technology and customer service and music and movies. We hugged and loved, complained and argued. We knew, that at the end of the day, whether we loved or hated each other, we could depend on each other. That means something. And, I bet everywhere else, the same thing was going on.

Wherever you are, life sucks. Life is great too. It's all in how you look at it. I choose to be hopeful. After all, isn't that what this season is all about anyway? Things are tough, but the hope they will get better will get us all through.