Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith.
—Henry Ward Beecher
Once there was a boy who always looked on the bright side and always expected the best. He expected to like brussels sprouts before he had ever tasted them, for instance, and to like his teacher on the first day of school. Because he had such a sunny outlook on things, he was rarely disappointed.
But the boy’s father thought he wasn’t realistic, so one Christmas he decided to test him. On Christmas morning there were many presents, all but one small one were for the boy’s brother. The brother opened his gifts with glee – a train set, a toy robot, a cowboy outfit, even his own TV.
Through all this, the boy smiled expectantly, confident the contents of his small box would equal the splendor of his brother’s gifts. When it was his turn he ripped the box open to find only a pile of hay and some very smelly animal droppings.
To his father’s astonishment, the boy clapped his hands with joy and ran immediately to the backyard. “Yippee!” he cried. “There must be a pony here somewhere!”
If I expect the best, just for today, what wondrous things might happen?
