What the ending of 50 First Dates tells me

On a whim, I just watched the movie 50 First Dates again.  Although the movie itself contains some unnecessary parts that I don't appreciate, I’ve always loved the ending – one of my top 10 favorite Hollywood scenes of all time.  I love watching Lucy wake up to find herself ensconced in silk sheets on a boat in the middle of an arctic paradise, among majestic glaciers and glistening seas, with an adoring husband, a darling little girl, and her dad contentedly fishing, as the song, “Somewhere over the rainbow,” highlights the fulfillment of all her unspoken dreams.  She gasps, "Oh my goodness," as the wonder of it laps over her soul.

Life can be such a horror, a wreck.  But there’s a dream that someone out there loves you so much that he is going to surprise you, create with his own bare hands a fairy tale dream come true for you, and give you more than you could have ever hoped for.  The character Henry took Lucy’s dead-end life, focused only on surviving and maintaining status quo, and turned it into a daily awe at a happiness that had suddenly descended upon her – a happiness she had no ability to craft for herself.  And there was a gentleness, an attentiveness, in him winning her daily, that highlights the respect for her daily consent.  Love cannot overpower and force, does not trap and then compel by obligation, with the excuse that "in the end this will make you happy."  It woos, every day, and holds back when the time is not right.

    

In the nuclear wreckage of my life, this is my hope.  That my life can be changed from a disappointing dead end to something beautiful and amazing, otherworldly in goodness and joy.  In this life, at some point some people have to concede that the earthly dream of human love and family will probably never be theirs.  Many people never find a human “true love,” never marry, or marry into a sea of hurts and wrecked hopes; never have children, or have children who are ripped away from them far too young or who grow up to curse them and hate them.  And yet their life doesn't have to be a failure.  We here on earth set our sights far too low.  I don’t know if I have any future hopes of love or family on earth.  Some people I talk to insist that it must be still to come -- whether they believe that's with my abusive husband, magically reformed in their minds, or with someone else.  Like the women who could never accept my infertility, would never allow me to express my closure on that path, but insisted that there must still be a baby coming for me.  But for me, it's ok if it doesn't include that earthly happiness.  It would be nice, I guess, but right now I rest my hopes on divine love, that Jesus is the author of my wonderful future, that he can change my outlook, reverse nuclear destruction, and resurrect the dead.  There is an outcome far more surprising, enchanting, life-giving than the one I dreamed of, in His hands, still to come.  I can't wait to see what it will be.