The Optimist v. The Pessimist

I found myself slipping into 'woe is me' mode this weekend. We had the wonderful gift of sharing dinner with dear friends on Saturday night. Cam & Trish's neighbors, from San Angelo, came down to see their granddaughter in a recital on Saturday in Kingsville. They are as close to family as it comes, and came to eat dinner with us and visit. It was such a refreshing time, as it always is. It's hard to explain the joy it brings to see any of 'our people' making the turn down our caliche driveway. The flip side being that it feels like a yo-yo extending in your heart when they pull back out of the driveway, abruptly springing back up and reverberating there, leaving a feeling of abandon in its wake. Such is the case when anyone leaves our humble abode. I literally fight off the urge of what I know I felt as a child when my grandparents left. I wanted to test the confidence in my Saucony's and grab hold of the bumper. That was only in my mind, of course. Sunday, at church, as often times happens, the sermon seemed to be addressing me. He talked about hope through the book of Jeremiah and reminded us that He has a plan. Even though it's currently written in invisible ink that noone but He can see, it's the power of believing that gets us there. To reinforce, our pastor provided this example of an analogy comparing the pessimist and the optimist: Two children anxiously awaited Christmas morning, their minds in endless imagination of what the shiny, perfectly wrapped packages underneath the tree contained. One child, an eternal optimist, the other a persistent pessimist. The pessimistic child opened his gifts first. He unveiled a brand new top-of-the-line CD player. He replied, 'I don't have any CD's to play in it.' With every gift that followed, his rebuttal showed equal pessimism. The optimistic child tore into his gift with delight only to find a steaming pile of horse manure wrapped up in a box. He excitedly leaped up in joy leaving his parents in a state of confusion. When asked how he could possibly be so excited over a pile of poop, he simply stated- 'With all this manure, there's bound to be a pony somewhere!'. This certainly helped me find balance and remember to look for the silver lining, rather than the cloud covering it up...of course, the Sunday pot-luck lunch never fails to boost the spirits as well...

That said, today did not produce the best of days either. Meeting to set up the new school I am moving to left me feeling unsettled and less confident about the upcoming year. Also, I have an improper habit of pushing my gas tank to the limit at times. Despite Wade on my other shoulder saying I should stop for gas before I leave town, I lay the hammer down and head for home. Maybe it's a ludicrous personal game to see just how far I can go on fumes- not sure. I managed to make it back to Premont and coast into the Valero parking lot, only to find that of all days, they are out of gas. Yes, I know, the paradox of that statement spreads miles, but luckily there's another gas establishment in Premont, USA. Because of the shortage, the line for gas spanned about eight cars back. The gauge on my car read zero miles until empty about ten miles before. I waited it out until I sat next in line, then went inside to pay as pay-at-the-pump isn't an option. As I was paying, a little car zipped in front of me. I have never had high blood pressure in my life, but if I had a machine to check it, I reckon it measured at a concerning level. She waved her cash in the air, handed it to the cashier, and went on outside just a pumpin' in the wind. I do not like conflict. In fact, I am a fan of resolving all situations amicably and with a smile. The least amount of feathers ruffled the better, but this just got my goat. I strolled out there and said kindly, 'Excuse me, but do you see this line?' (No reply- just blank staring). I continued, 'We have all been waiting here twenty minutes for gas, and this is the line.' I added a Vanna White wave toward the line for effect. Still nothing. Just a blank stare in my direction as if I were some invisible orb. At that point, what could I do short of putting my Ranch Hand to good use and pushing her little car to the curb? I sat in my car, waiting, until I finally got gas and headed home. I will admit to throwing a small adult fit upon entering my safe place. As Wade stood in the doorway, I jumped up and down doing a grand rendition of what break-dancing might look like in the air. Then I put my purse down and proceeded to cook vittles for our dining pleasure this evening.

I needed to remember the eternal optimist and the fact that the lady that whizzed in front of me at the pump was just the proverbial steaming pile of dung- my pony must be waiting somewhere! I vow to heartily keep the faith in finding it.