Choose Hope

May 25, 2020

Two pictures on my mother’s bookshelf frame the photos of us kids and spouses and of course, the grandkids and great-grandkids. The first is of her and dad a couple weeks after they were married in 1943, the last is her and dad, taken shortly before he died. “It was just the two of us at the start, and again at the end,” she said to me last week. “In between is all the family.” 

I have copies of the first photo, but not the last. Next time I visit, I’ll rectify that, but in the meantime, it’s that first photo I want to talk about tonight. At 21, mom was a real beauty, and dad at 22 was handsome in his uniform. WWII was raging, and he was in the Army Air Force, stationed in San Antonio, waiting to be deployed. On the bookshelf in her bedroom is a photo of the two of them on their actual wedding day, apparently the only picture that was taken. In just a couple weeks they were enroute to San Antonio, and once there, decided to get that second “wedding picture” taken...because they didn’t know if he would be sent overseas with the possibility that they wouldn’t see each other again.

As it turned out, dad’s pre-deployment physical revealed a heart murmur that kept him stateside. To the end of his days, he could rattle off the names of his buddies who embarked and never returned, sent into some of the hardest fighting in the European theater. More than fifty years later, he could tell you their names, but not without tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat.

College and high school seniors this year are bemoaning the cancellation of graduation ceremonies, proms, and all the celebrations they’ll not get to have because of COVID-19. I feel bad for them. Many of them worked hard to get through school, and have looked forward to the recognition of their labors. But the graduation ceremony for many of my father’s friends was their induction into the armed forces, and the same was true for my brother, and many of my friends. 

The smiles in mom and dad’s photos are genuine, but they are not without a certain amount of pathos. As they began life together, there were no guarantees, but faith and love moved them to make promises they kept for seventy years. There are no guarantees today either, although we have grown accustomed to imagining life will always treat us kindly. We are learning otherwise, but just as they faced uncertain times with joy, so can we. It all boils down to the choices we make...to either embrace life with hope, or to shrink from it in fear. I choose hope.