It was another long drive to the hospital along Highway 35 between La Crosse and Prairie du Chien. The view along the river road this time of year takes my breath away. Gold, burgundy, brilliant oranges, vibrant yellows and even the crisp browns scream life and vitality. Green leaves are beautiful for sure, but they are quickly forgotten on that one perfect weekend right after the leaves change when the hills glow with autumn. The trip was long and the purpose daunting, but the view made it bearable.

I understand that there are plenty of scientific reasons leaves turn colors in autumn, but for a moment let us examine the plight of a fall leaf with a bit of naiveté. As snow covers the frigid Midwest countryside, deep inside the trees, buds plot their escape.

In late February the air gradually gets milder and snow melts to reveal the beginnings of these buds. Then the warm breeze and gentle rain of spring inspire new life to break forth and show itself boldly. Heat and humidity of summer cater to the strong and vibrant leaves as they experience the best days of their short existences, feeling undefeatable and eternal. Then as the lazy days of August fade into September cooler air hints that change is coming. And sure enough, October rolls in promising an end to our seemingly immortal leaves. But even as death looms heavy overhead, the leaves put on their best colors for one last hurrah before the chill of winter shakes them from their perches and begins the cycle anew. If only we could face hardships with such grace.

I’ve been in and out of the hospital for five months now. In that time I’ve seen a dozen different doctors and specialists and been to all kinds of wings of the hospital and finally, I’m looking at another surgery to deal with a potentially fatal medical condition I’ve developed that is shutting down major organs. Things have been tough as I battle through medical complications, try to keep up with classes and have some semblance of a social life. Late at night during the ugly and painful moments of chronic illness, I hate my life. In my mind I throw temper tantrums railing against the forces that be for allowing this to happen to me. At times I am angry, bitter, defeated and just overall anti-graceful.

And it doesn’t help to be sulking and intentionally dwelling on unfair and harsh circumstances endlessly. Grief has an appropriate purpose and place, but there comes a time to make a choice. “It isn’t fair!”
Yeah, that’s true, but what are you going to do about it? Are you going to whine and allow yourself to be kept down by things you can’t control, or are you going to use the hard knocks to shape you into a better person? Are you going to give up and be just another victim, or are you going to push ahead and come out of the fire refined and strengthened?

I choose to live with joy. The circumstances of my condition suck, as do many circumstances individuals are faced with. But I will not allow the things I can’t control to shape the one thing I can, my attitude. I will stare down my adversity and face my trials with all the grace of an autumn leaf, and if in the end I am toppled from my perch with the winds of winter at least I will float away knowing that to my last day I was radiant. Face hardship with joy, remembering that seasons, even cold and bitter ones, eventually change.