Optimism is a good thing. It’s the belief that when we have problems, “everything will turn out alright in the end.” But I’m a glass-half-empty kind of guy. My first reaction to most problems is that everything will not turn out so well in the end. Also, I’ve almost convinced myself that a half-empty glass isn’t such a bad thing because it motivates me to want to fill it, meaning I’ll work hard to force at least an acceptable ending. Are positive people all that much better off than me? After all, we both have the same amount of water in the glass. Well, yeah, they do seem to be better off. Positive people are less likely to let discouragement slow them down. They push ahead knowing things will get better as they march toward what they believe will be a positive outcome. The difference between them and me is they usually reflect hope and confidence in their faces while my puckered mug often reflects what I call “grim determination.” Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mope around all day. And I have my fun and hopeful moments. But I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine as often as I’d like to be, either.
My pessimism drives Tammy nuts. She’d like to spill her half-full glass (hers is more like eighty percent full) over my head and tell me – as she has over and over again for 45 years – that “It’s gonna be okay!” One time when I frustrated her more than normal, I reminded her that she married me “for better or for worse.” Without hesitating she said, “Yeah. You got the better and I got the worse.” My sweet, shy, long-suffering wife – with a zinger! Naturally, I was absolutely certain that it was acid she threatened to pour over my head and that it was going to end badly.
The thing I admire most about optimism and those of you who exude it is that it provides strength during hard times. It leads to resilience. Here’s what I wrote about the tough, weather-beaten tree I show on the home page of this website: “I’m awed by the audacity of the gnarled tree as it defiantly thrusts itself up from what seems like an unrelenting slab of rock; daring the glare of the sun and stiff sea breezes blowing in from the ocean to sap its strength and break its spirit. But it doesn’t just survive. It thrives, and stands as a symbol of the indomitable human spirit, which, at its noblest, shows the same resilience, force and resoluteness as the tree.”
I’d like to be more like that tree. Well, I might leave out the “gnarled” part (although it’s becoming truer with every passing year). I honor everything about it. I love the way the tree bends but refuses to break; the way it seems to say “Bring. It. On!” I admire those who stand for something greater than themselves, how they consecrate their time, means and love to defend and lift up the downtrodden and bring comfort to those who have little. Or how people with a terminal illness or those who care for a loved one with dementia carry themselves with dignity and grace. They include family, friends and strangers. They could live in our homes or across the world.
Standing up for the greater good can also be lonely, such as when Nelson Mandela languished in a prison cell for 27 years for being an anti-apartheid revolutionary. His resilience carried him through – even when he must have felt dark and defeated – when his trials would have broken most people. He didn’t give up. He was an optimist. After his release, he became the first black president of South Africa. Mandela said, “Do not judge me by my success; judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.”
Oh, we’re all probably more resilient than we give ourselves credit for. We’re not likely to suffer in prison for 27 years. But in our own way, large or small, haven’t we all demonstrated courage even when it was hard? I think yes. And I’m optimistic (did I really say that?) that while our resilience may not lead to immediate or glorious victories, or even happen during our lifetime, it very well may have a strong influence on generations of our descendants. As a man who believes in a benevolent Heavenly Father, I try to keep my eye on the bigger picture; that we have the ability – and obligation – to leave the world a better place for our having been here.
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