Hope in My Rope

Easter weekend five years ago, I laid eyes on Jimmy Galyon for the first time in the eleven years since we'd graduated from Maryville College. It had been almost thirteen years since we'd dated. Sunday morning, as I pressed wrinkles from our daughters' white, cotton dresses, I thought on Easter weekend five years ago.

I thought: funny how all it takes, sometimes, is opening the right door. I guess I'd known that all along, having watched Ed McMahon present sweepstakes many-a-time, on tv. Still, I'm unlucky enough as to choose, regularly, a Cracker Jacks box with no prize. I just didn't figure I'd be one to ever open the right door.

(Note: "The Rose" is playing in my head as I type this: "When the night has been too lonely / And the road has been too long / And you think that love is only / For the lucky and the strong...")

But then, one day, I did: I opened the right door. One might suppose that such an experience would make me more confident regarding outcomes, but--I'll be honest--it hasn't much helped. Instead of feeling like a lucky person, I feel like an unlucky person who opened the right door on one highly-unlikely, once-in-a-lifetime occasion.

So I remind myself what the preachers say about how there's no such thing as luck. I remind myself: nothing is impossible with God. I pray and tell Him I feel like I'm at the end of my rope, and He knows better than anyone: I'm one of little upper-body strength and ought not be on a rope at all, ever. I ask Him to give me a little hope in my rope. And He does. He always does.

Linking with Emily for the relaunch of Imperfect Prose.

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