by Donna Poole
I suppose if you called me an optimist you wouldn’t be wrong. When I was a kid, I exasperated my sister by dragging her home at running speed on grocery day in case Mom had bought us a present. Mom had no money to buy presents and had never bought us ones before, but that didn’t deter my stubborn hope that somehow this might be the day, and I couldn’t wait to get home and find out. I don’t ever remember feeling disappointed that no gift awaited; there was always the hope of next week’s grocery day!
It’s not my fault, really; I was born optimistic; my blood type is B positive.
If you aren’t laughing yet, let me tell you one of my favorite jokes. You may have heard this before, but come on. It’s funny enough to deserve more than one laugh.
An optimist fell off the roof of a high-rise building. As he passed the fifteenth floor on his way down, people heard him shouting, “So far, so good!”
When I was a child discipline was harsh and frequent. Money was in short supply, and we didn’t have the clothes other children had. Sometimes we went to bed a bit hungry, but we had parents who loved us, and we Piarulli girls had each other. Life was an adventure waiting to be lived. I woke up every day catching my breath with anticipation and thinking something wonderful would surely happen that day.
Not surprisingly, Pollyanna was one of my favorite books. I was drawn to her optimism and the “glad game” she played where she found something good even when things were difficult. I loved the old elm tree outside her window, the one she looked at often when she lost the ability to walk after she fell out of the window trying to save someone else. I learned a good lesson from that book, even the most Pollyanna of us can despair, and sometimes we need our friends to sing back to us the song our hearts have forgotten.
Pollyanna didn’t climb her old elm, but I’ve spent most of my life in a Pollyanna tree. When cruel north winds hurl me to the ground, family, friends, and especially God restore my hope. God is a God of all comfort, of hope, and of a joy that hums a quiet tune we can faintly hear even under the howling winds of sorrow.
And so, I brush away tears and dead leaves, find courage to climb again, and find my comfy spot in my Pollyanna Tree waiting for me, just as it always has since my earliest days. and I watch the seasons of my life pass, and I dream my dreams.
I dream of a better world. Someone joked that an optimist thinks this is the best of all worlds and a pessimist is afraid he’s right. I know sin and hate have done a good job of fragmenting our world, and it makes me sad. The first two brothers on earth couldn’t manage to live together in peace; one killed the other. Sin did that. Jesus died to destroy sin, and one day he’ll return to earth and make a world where love will rule in the hearts of mankind and in the animal kingdom. The Bible says a lion will rest next to a lamb, and a toddler will play with a poisonous snake, and nothing will hurt or destroy in all his holy mountain. Love will make our broken world whole again; Eden will return to earth.
Love can rule in our hearts now, if Jesus lives there.
“Love through me, Love of God,
Make me like thy clear air
Through which unhindered colors pass
As though it were not there.” –Amy Carmichael
I wish I could say I had never sinned against that love and never would again. I wish every drop of selfishness and ego were gone from my heart, but that must wait for heaven. Right now, self has a way of cluttering that clear air Amy talked about, but I pray her prayer every day. I have this Pollyanna dream of a world where all who claim to be Christians touch everyone in their lives with love. Not a love that overlooks sin, because sin kills every good thing it touches, but a love that says, what do you need? Let me help you. You are not alone. I am here for you.
“Optimistic people tend to have happier dreams,” or so says Sage Google, and who am I to disagree?
In my dreams I’m never old, never sick, always strong. John touched my arm and woke me in the middle of a dream this morning, and it was such a happy one it’s put a smile on my mood all day. I was bouncing a baby boy on my knee. I was babysitting the little guy somewhere. He was only a year old but had the vocabulary of a much older child.
“I’ve forgotten your name,” I said to him. “What does your mama call you?”
“Good boy!” He laughed. “I good boy!”
“Yes, you are. But what’s your name?”
“K-U-R-D-Y,” he spelled.
“Kurdy? Your name is Kurdy?”
He nodded. “I love you!” And he threw his arms around me. “I want to come to your house.”
“You can! And you can come to her house too!” I nodded at my sister and smiled.
I turned to the neighbor who suddenly appeared in my dream. “Janet, I forgot to tell you! My sister Ginny moved back to Michigan from South Carolina, and now she and Bob live next door to us!”
“That’s wonderful!” Janet said.
Kurdy pointed at my sister, Ginny, who was smiling her famous smile, the one that makes my heart hurt with missing her when I’m awake. “I love her too!” he said.
I ruffled his soft, black curls and cuddled him close. I knew something about Kurdy. He loved everyone, but that didn’t make his love for me any less special.
Then John woke me up.
“Good morning, honey,” he said.
“Can we have another baby?” I asked.
“What?” He roared with that laughter I love. “I don’t think so!”
I laughed too. Seventy-seven is a bit old to become a mother, especially if you’re me. I’m not even strong enough to stand up holding a baby; I have to sit in a chair, and even then a baby’s mom keeps at least one eye on me!
I wonder if there will be babies in heaven or if we’ll all be the same age. I know I’ll never have to say goodbye to my sisters or anyone else I love. And I know something else. Heaven will be more magical, awesome, and beautiful than anything even a Pollyanna can dream. And something wonderful will happen every day!
The end.
***
These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:
Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
Backroad Ramblings Volume Four: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter
