I had lunch with a friend this morning. She told me about an officemate of hers who criticized my friend’s office as “unprofessional” as decided by a by a bank employee who came around taking pictures. My friend responded but the other person kept arguing. My friend used a stern voice to end the argument. Of course the whole incident about the bank judging their office was a total lie. No one from a bank had been to the office. Still, my friend came in the next day with some flowers and an apology for her stern manner. The officemate refused the flowers and the apology, saying they did not have a relationship so it couldn’t be repaired. I was aghast at this story which my friend related calmly. A while later in our conversation she spoke of this woman in a positive light. I asked her how she could forgive so easily, but she shrugged it off. My friend epitomizes “hope springs eternal.”
As I age, I know as a single person I am one fall away from assisted living. I could live in fear, especially because I am a clumsy oaf who falls at least every other month, but I choose to be an optimist, thinking that my fat helps me bounce right up.
I have an errant son. Last week he got out of jail after four months of incarceration. He chose o return to Phoenix and go directly into rehab. He’s been battling addiction for nine years. I’m so glad that he sees hope. He told me, “I don’t deserve another chance. I’m determined to do it this time and become a sober, self-supporting adult.” What music to my ears! I’m cautiously optimistic. I can give him moral support but I have to step back and let him find his own hope. He knows, however, that if he comes up short I’ll always love him but I won’t include him in my life.
I’ve always been an optimist. Is this an inborn trait? Certainly I’ve had tragedies in my life and sometimes people wonder at my ability to have a smile on my face. Perhaps because terrible things have happened I feel it has to better going forward. And my mother, when she was dealing with dementia, taught me to savor each moment. Maybe that’s why I’m into nature photography now. I want to savor the beauty and take a picture to remind myself of it later.
So as you’re looking at a glass of water, do you see it as half empty or half full? Do you allow hope in?
Check out my books Reinvented Lives and As One Door Closes, available on amazon.com