There’s always hope.
I am sitting in a hospital lounge. I’m waiting to collect a friend I’ve brought in for a brief procedure for which he needs an anaesthetic and consequently needs someone to take him home. He’s aging. So am I. Right there in front of me there’s a bundle of brand new hope.
There’s a few hours to observe and ponder life.
All shapes, sizes and ruinations
It’s a general kind of place so there is every kind of patient here; people as wide as buses needing a stomach stapling, old fogies in wheel chairs getting a new hip, people who smoked too much, people who should have exercised more and eaten less, and people whose lives have seen better days.
And there’s way too many Year 9 girls wearing stethoscopes posing as brain surgeons.
But be it a happy thought, there’s brand new babies.
Once it was cigars. Now it’s banana bread!
I just met Oliver who is two days old. His new daddy is hiding behind a pillar munching a lump of banana bread trying not to look like he’s won the lottery.
It’s actually Oliver who has won the biggest lottery in the world.
He has begun what I hope he discovers is a Glorious Quest. I wonder how many times his Mummy and Daddy will kiss him and cuddle him and tell him he’s their most precious thing. They will cheer when he sits up, clap when he crawls, turn circles when he walks and cry for joy when he says his first word. He will be patted, fed, clothed, nurtured, sung to, be given gifts, and showered with opportunities.
What will his Glorious Quest be?
Will he be the man who finds a cure for aids, wipes out cancer, cleans the oceans, stamps out hunger and poverty or will he be a new Hemingway, a Tchaikovsky, a John or Paul, a Billy Graham, a D’Ali, a Bill Gates? Or will he be a kind and loving man who simply brightens the corner where he takes up his life?
He’ll have his dodgy moments
He will endure ‘time out’, being sent to his room and being given ‘the look’ by Dad at Grandma’s house. He’ll forget notes from the teacher, lose his sun hat, swap his lunch for something ‘bad’, draw on the walls and cry when he misses a goal or doesn’t get a kick at soccer. He’ll be rejected by friends, be falsely accused of wrongdoing, flunk a test or two and have his heart broken by a sweetheart.
I hope he makes smart choices
I hope he doesn’t smoke, never gets drunk, doesn’t imbibe other poisons, doesn’t drive too fast,and doesn’t bang into dream stealers. I hope he finds that despite life’s not being easy, it can be delightful.
And what about you? If you don’t feel as though YOU are on your Glorious Quest and over the weekend see if you can find it.
My Kick in the Pants for you: Life! Ya gotta love it!
