Namby-Pamby Oaths

"Then a most surprising thing occurred. The captain broke loose upon the dead man like a thunderclap. Oaths rolled from his lips in a continuous stream. And they were not namby-pamby oaths, or mere expressions of indecency. Each word was a blasphemy, and there were many words. They crisped and crackled like electric sparks. I had never heard anything like it in my life, nor could I have conceived it possible. With a turn for literary expression myself, and a penchant for forcible figures and phrases, I appreciated, as no other listener, I dare say, the peculiar vividness and strength and absolute blasphemy of his metaphors."

The Sea-wolf by Jack London

The Quitter by Robert Service

When you’re lost in the Wild, and scared as a child,
And death looks you bang in the eye,
And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and . . . die.

But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow . . .
It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.

“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.
You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
You’ve had a raw deal!” I know – but don’t squeal,
Buck up, do you’re darndest, and fight.

It’s the plugging away that will win the day,
So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:
It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.

It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten – and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight –
Why, that’s the best game of them all!

And though you come out of each gruelling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try – it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.

Good news/bad news

My son has epilepsy. This is bad news, but not part of my good/bad dichotomy. 

For various (valid) reasons, we thought he may have a brain tumor. Family history pointed in that direction. The C-T scan showed nothing, but still, I wanted an MRI to be sure. The doctor was 100% positive that he didn't have a tumor, but in my mind, you cannot be 100% anything until you illuminate other possibilities if you are unable to prove positively that your diagnosis is correct. I was afraid that we were going down the wrong treatment track because we missed the double junction switch. If you are supposed to be on the main line and you are traveling down the branch line, the solution to the problem is not to go faster down the wrong destination. Increasing the medicines could be going down the wrong diagnosis path, which was not going to help us. I had them (to take the train metaphor further than I had originally intended) to stop and go back to the station to make sure we are going the right direction. 

The MRI came back totally normal. No tumors, not lesions. Nothing. Great news, I was terrified. Now that I have been proven wrong by the doctor, we are back to square one. No one knows why it is happening and no one knows what to do about it. His medicines are making matters worse. Good news, no cancer. Bad news, we don't know why he is having seizures and we don't know why they are getting worse. 

So, there were are, kind of back at square one. Going to take patience and grace. Thankfully Jesus is the God and giver of both.