head up, arnett

We are the orphaned children of Howard and Ethel. In our veins course their resilient and believing blood. C'mon, if their good and hard lives taught us anything it is to hang on and hang tough.

I want to go on the record here and say that I refuse to give up on myself and those I love. That means I have to work hard to keep pessimism and bitterness in check and on especially tough days I have to make a conscious effort to speak words of encouragement and optimism because hope, like so many other attributes, is contagious.

Don't talk to me that 'we aren't making it'. Don't speak to me that our lack of socio-economic status determines in any way our worthiness to be redeemed. Stop it.

If you want to commiserate with me that life is full of problems, that our personal demons sometimes discourage and trip us up or that our children have challenges, then okay, I can relate. But no matter how dark, discouraging and depressing our circumstances there is always hope. To say 'there is no hope for me and for mine' is to say there is no Savior and I do not believe that.

As a child I was always proud to be an Arnett, the HMA variety. It's true we have all had crushing disappointments and sometimes even been our own worst enemy. I call that 'mortality 101'. I am not trivializing our personal sorrows and private pain. They are real. But part of being an Arnett, to me, has always been about steadying ourselves in the Savior when those tough times come.

Our parents have long since gone, but I know they would tell us to have hope, to love and lift each other. They would tell us to put our faith where it is supposed to be - squarely relying upon our Savior.