on hope

the dutch believe every tulip bulb hold promise. they are planted in the ground and given the proper conditions and weather, each spring they burst forth in a sea of color. one can't help but feel a bit more joyous when they are painting the world a bit brighter. and even when the months of spring seem a lifetime away, there is the hope time will fly quickly and bring us into the colorful days of spring. all this from a tiny little bulb. if you plant them, take care to put them at just the right depth and hopefully they get just the right amount of water and warmth and halfway around another calendar year they emerge like little wonders. even the ones planted in my parents' yard that are sure to be gobbled by the deer; each one, while it is in the ground, holds such promise. and we just hang onto hope that this will be the year one is left, hiding from the deer. the hope that they will make us happy.

i think there is a lot of promise in the world. we all have it, in differing manefestations. i think about promise a lot in terms of young children... but i think we have it as adults as well. that somewhere along the way we'll realize what we're here for and use it to make something better. whether it is knowing you have a knack for green design and you use it to better the buildings that will hold the offices of the next 100 years, or if you know you make a mean chocolate chip cookie and you use it to make your friend with cancer happy (hint, hint). promise is one thing, but it begets hope. with all the potential out there for good, we all find ourselve hoping for myriad developments and change and happiness - the perfect front fork, the perfect kitchen, the perfect cure for all sorts of ailments and diseases, the perfect vacation spot... the list goes on and on. and more than promise, i think hope is what gets everyone through.

earlier this week i found myself angered by people with the viewpoint that john edwards should suspend his campaigning in light of elizabeth's reemergent cancer. i don't know whether i would have had the same reaction if i wasn't on this side of the fence, but i have been given the rare gift of perspective. in my eyes, by throwing everything down and succumbing immediately to a disease that CAN be lived with and CAN be survived for years and years they would be throwing away all hope. there is so much strength to be found in living for a reason, and this has been a shared dream of theirs for years. to pin hope upon this goal, to learn as much as they can learn about managing the disease and go ahead living strong in the face of it... i think this what every warrior needs to do. to slow down, figure out what they are facing, and learn how to treat it, yes, is necessary. but to stop altogether is not. i admire elizabeth's resolve and strength in facing this thing. it won't be easy, but it can be done. and we are all lucky to witness such strength.

another thing angered me, but this one is most certainly because of my disease. i began reading a book given to me at some point during my recovery from surgery. in one of the early chapters a character realizes he's lost his job, his mistress, and his wife. he begs the question "what next" by asking "and tomorrow i bet i find out i have cancer". at first i was angry about cancer being used in this way, but six months ago i might have said the same thing. it isn't due to insensitivity. the anger passed and i thought about it more. i supppose what it comes down to for me is that every day that has passed since my diagnosis has not been about cancer. some of them have been, out of necessity, and others out of self-pity. but mostly, it has been about life and the things that come along with it. i know there are people out there fighting the disease who are not granted the time i have been. it is not always a death sentence, and people need to know this in order to hang onto hope. there are people out there who realized their promise and became doctors, scientists, nurses, and technicians and they will all help take care of you. and very quickly you can learn you have strength you never even dreamed of. it is not all bad.

i suppose what i am trying to say is i think this spring will bring many more tulips than i've seen in my life. it is time for the table to turn. it was a crummy year, but it begins anew next weekend and i think it has to be a good one. lots and lots of tulips from bulbs we didn't even know we planted.