I’m on my third cup of coffee. I just polished off the eggs and bacon breakfast fuel I made on the hotplate here in the studio portion of a timeshare we own in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. We bought it almost 25 years ago. There are so many great memories of laughter and vacation fun here. I can hear my 7 year old, wide-eyed Josh asking if we can go to the game room after his brother and sister fall asleep. Shara is sitting on the floor flipping pages in the new books the Easter bunny brought her and three-year-old Jacob is gently rubbing the scab down the length of his nose saying, “I got the rug burn.” (He rubbed his nose raw on the carpet for some reason.)

If we open up all three connected units that we own we have room to sleep 14. While I hear the laughter of the past, I can also envision future days of holding hands with my grandkids and walking to the pool across the railroad tracks. I can hear laughter and see cousins bonding and playing.

Somebody pinch me. This is a two-day escape for me. Sabbath rest. Alone.

My pretty carbon, light-as-a-feather bicycle is leaning on the wall by the door and cycling clothes are laid out on the bed. The Today Show is talking about Hillary Clinton like she is new news and the April sun is rising above Attitash Mountain out these front windows.

Somebody pinch me.

Sunday night, while I watched the Yankees beat up on my Red Sox, with my computer on my lap, I came across a video from May 8, 2012. A yellow, thin me, reassured everyone that I survived the transplant surgery. My voice was pretty strong. My smile radiated new hope. It surprised me mostly because I have no memory of ever filming it. I was obviously higher than a kite. 

Wow. That seems like so long ago but also like just yesterday.

Tonight my muscles are complaining from two days of hill climbs. I went 26 miles on Monday and then 25 more today. Why should you care? Am I looking for a pat on the back? No, absolutely not.

Many of my readers are right where I was three years ago. Many of them are waiting and praying that their gift of life will come. My posts are my attempt to give them hope and to inspire them to PUSH on and never give up. I remember nights of praying that God would end my suffering and take my life. I remember the tears, the pain, the frustration and the medication that seemed to do nothing. I remember.

But tonight especially, after two days of doing something that most healthy people can’t do, while my Red Sox are on my television just having started a game with the Washington Nationals, I want to encourage you. My life is filled with promise again. I have boring days and days of sweet routine again. I have a hope and expect a future. I believe that you do too, no matter what you are experiencing right now.

Please don’t give up. You don’t know how good life can be again. Enjoy these pictures from my little mountain excursion after watching the above video one more time.