Optimism

I had five extra little girls this week. Their foster family was going out of the country and the child care arrangements fell through, so the caseworker called me. I’m pretty sure I know how the conversation in the office went. “Can you think of anyone crazy enough to take five little girls for a week on short notice?” “Yep, I think I do…”

I got a little bit of information about the girls when I talked to their caregivers, but most of my information that first day came from the girls telling me about each other. The middle one is a first-grader with speech that is very difficult to understand. For example, “I spy with my little eye something blue” sounds like, “I pie ih I ill I ummy oo.” But she definitely can make her desires or complaints known when she needs someone to be aware. The oldest girl pulled me aside right away to explain about the middle one. She whispered to me, “We think she has optimism.” I wanted to laugh but instead (realizing she meant autism) solemnly nodded my head and said knowingly, “I understand.”

As I got to know her over the week, I saw that she indeed had optimism. She would often see something she thought needed her help and jump in with the best intentions. Almost without fail it would cause a complete disaster. Not thinking, I would scold her and then feel terrible as I saw her little spirit wilt. But within seconds she would recover and come hug me with a big smile.

Every time I thought about her sister’s diagnosis, I would smile and chuckle to myself. And I thought about what a different world we would live in if more of us had optimism and saw the glass as half full instead of half empty.

But then again, optimism in and of itself is pretty hollow. It eventually cracks. This world is broken and horrible. People die, bad guys do bad stuff, tornadoes destroy, families crumble. What are we to do? Pessimism rots the soul, but optimism seems a phony way out.

More powerful than optimism, I think, is hope. It’s the next step from “that glass looks half full” to “look how much room there is in that glass for something wonderful to fill it.” When I see these precious children who have been so criminally treated, there is no way to finish the sentence, “Well, look on the bright side…” That just minimizes the grief they have to face.

I am in love with a God of hope; a God who transforms the worst humans can do to other humans into unexplainable beauty. He is no powerless optimist, content to try to find the silver lining in a cloud. No, He is the God who melts winter into spring, who orchestrates the life cycle of butterflies, who turns an irritating grain of sand into a pearl. He takes fragile human lives that His enemy has tried to destroy and He raises them into mighty peacemakers. His weapon is love – stronger than hate and fear.

I wept tonight with a precious young woman who has endured more than I could imagine. She’s not very big but she’s a mighty fighter. She is full of hope. She knows what was done to her was intended to destroy her, but it hasn’t. She sees truth – she knows the lies she was made to believe and she is proving them wrong. She sees love – she is surrounded by a family and a church who love her dearly. She sees hope.

Hope is solid and real. It alone can remain unshaken when the rest of the world falls apart. “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1)