Finite Disappointment vs Infinite Hope

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

I find this quote to be applicable to my current situation in life, with so many dear friends having moved away, the third (but basically the first) surgery of my life at my door, tedious schoolwork, extra curricular drama, braces (that appear to be in my mouth to stay), shots every week, and my adoptive family moving to Australia contributing to my discomfort and loneliness. The last two months have been a rude awakening for me that have really challenged me in a variety of ways, but the miraculous thing is that I am still, overall, happy. I'm HAPPY. Good things, if little, keep happening. For example, I was at church today and lo and behold, my old home teacher walked in (he lives in Missouri now). It was such an unexpected blessing to see him there, and one of many.

Another unexpected blessing was my friend, John Little (aka Johnny Boy), who lives in Andover, Massachusetts, reminded me that he was coming back to Utah for Thanksgiving Break. Of course, he had told me previously that he was, but sometimes I have the memory of a traumatized 90-year-old woman, so I had blanked. Thank goodness for his reminder:

I'm baaaack! Let's hang out!

I read that text and felt such overwhelming gratitude - and utter excitement - that my friend was in Utah and wanted to get together. Friendship is such a marvelous thing, really; it's a wonder that some people don't embrace it!

Yet another example was just this evening when we had some family friends over for dinner: the children went down into our basement to play after dinner, and some time later, their seven-and-a-half-year-old daughter Presley came upstairs whimpering and clutching at her head with her hand, which was covered in blood. (A brief side note: realize that none of the kids in our family have ever broken a bone, had stitches, or had any surgeries, either... This whole "people can get seriously injured while playing" never really resonated with us.) No one panicked, but we acted fast because we did what we've done for years: we ran to fetch "the Doctor". Now you might be thinking, "what, Doctor Who?", but no, not that doctor (who is awesome and has a great television show, but alas, no); Doctor Raj, our long-time neighbor, best friend, most trusted emergency doctor, and the patriarch of my adoptive family. THAT doctor. Sure enough, he came right over and took care of the whole thing just like he's done for years, and in that moment I was reminded just what wonderful friends the Srivastavas are...not that it's easy to forget.

Rewind to yesterday when my mom told me that the Srivastavas were moving away for six months come July to Australia. SIX MONTHS! The very tyranny of existence just seemed to be too much. It knocked me senseless... Australia... Six months... Tyranny... It was all a horrid blur. I mean, bleeping Australia; no one REALLY likes them, they just PRETEND to. I overreacted a bit; I considered going to the mountains of east-central Asia to live for six months in simplicity, then Punjab, then the Lake District, then Maine. How going anywhere other than Australia would solve my problem, I'm not sure, but the imagination is rapid and mysterious, and sometimes illogical. I spent the rest of yesterday and this morning and afternoon brooding my losses, sulking away as the hours ticked by. It all changed when one of the people I was to lose for six months came over and just did his thing. I realized that I was 1) overreacting, 2) being selfish and pitying myself waaaaaay too much, 3) missing the point, and 4) grateful for the people I had come to love so fiercely. I also remembered that they were going to be gone for less than a year and that they weren't even leaving for more than seven months, and all this made me feel much, much better.

Beyond these specific examples, there have been so many more little things recently that have given me a strong testimony of the strength of hope, whether it was seeing the Roberts at Bonneville's Shakespeare play, the heavy primary snows, or Jane Austen. Hope, as I have realized recently, is more than "cherishing a desire with anticipation" (thank you Merriam-Webster); it's knowing that everything can and will be alright in the end because if it's not alright, it's simply not the end. You just have to wait and see how you'll end up getting from point A to point B, and sometimes it will surprise you.

The scriptures give a perfect message pertaining to my thoughts in 2nd Nephi chapter 31 verse 20: "Wherefore ye must press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men. Wherefore, if ye shall press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end, behold, thus saith the Father: Ye shall have eternal life." While eternal life might sound a little, well, tedious right now, the principle that it's all ok in the end is extremely comforting to me and a lot of other people. It inspires me to be grateful for every good and bad thing along the journey of life, which sounds cheesy, but it's TRUE! Life is all about progress and what you become, and so what's more important: your momentary sacrifice or your glorious, lasting hope? Just a thought, I guess, but I know that when I remind myself of where my priorities lie, it gets me through the day, with a smile on my face!

I suppose this is my ante-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving huzzah, so let me implore you to really enjoy this Thanksgiving and to give heartfelt thanks for all the little things (and the big things) that touch your life everyday, because I'm sure there are as many in your life as there are in mine. I'm sure. :)