Cope, Hope, and a Prayer

If I’m going to be a story

for someone else to tell,

Why can’t I be the good one?

The one about hope

The one who never gave up

The one who snatched out the tiniest sliver

of silver lining

from the underbelly of the darkest cloud.

If I have to be a cautionary statistic for someone else to share,

The ‘let’s see’ one

The ‘leave it to God’ one

‘There’s not much we can do’ one.

Why can’t it turn into a tale of miracles,

and magic,

and God’s blessings?

Because when I’m at that difficult crossroads

where things can go either this way or that

and faith is doing it’s extinguishing dance

I refuse to stop believing.

I refuse to break

Not until there’s that last straw,

that teeny speck of hope I can jump on and cling to,

like a bug on a leaf

violently floating through a strong current in the pounding rain.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be that feel-good script

where things end in a whoosh of relief and a big breakout smile.

I’ll be the story of that bullet dodged

That,

‘did you hear what happened to her?

How did she even survive?’

‘She did, because each day

she got up, showed up and asked

Is there any hope at all?

Then did whatever she could, one day at a time.

And now the worst is behind her,

God was kind!’

Is my brand of positivity toxic? Is it delusional?

I do not know!

What I do know is, compulsive optimism does not always mean you’re living in denial.

In reality, whatever will be, will be.

Things may go either this way, or that.

I will have to suffer through my punishment,

the whole purpose of this life!

But I would have faced it with grace and dignity,

a bucket full of hope, a truck load of gratitude.

laughter even in the worst of times.

and strength begged for, in so many prayers.

Sure, life will be cruel on some days,

but on most days…it is kind.