What he's saying, of course, is that the character and ability of the soldiers who won the day at Waterloo was not something innate, nor was it a collection of spontaneous heroism. Instead, he was intimating that, through the sort of perseverance and teamwork that they had learned at Eton, the character of these soldiers had been formed in such a way that they were able to do what needed to be done when it needed to be done, and that this exhibition of character was possible only as the result of habit.
Throughout this whole ordeal, the one question that has completely baffled me is when people say to me "How are you dealing with this?" or "How can you hold it together with all of this going on?"
Honestly, my only answer to this has always been, "how could I do anything else?"
As I recollect, I didn't really have many choices in the matter. There was something that needed to be done and I did it. I don't think that I ever did anything heroic, I just did what I knew to do. I'd like to think this is because of my character, but I know that that's not even anything special. I am who I am because of the sort of habits of character that I have developed over the years, and I am thankful. I have learned from my family, my friends and my faith the lessons of perseverance, and strength, of love and patience, of endurance and hope that have made me the sort of person that I am. I pray that it has been enough.
I think I prefer Paul's version of the sentiment in Romans 5:1-5
Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the future glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.
These past four months have been one strange detour on the path of life, but it is in these instances that we have the opportunity to learn who we really are. I do not think God plans these sorts of things, but I do think God often uses these sort of instances to help us grow and to remind us that we are not alone in this thing called life.
Today, we walked back into Duke Hospital for Emily to have her g-tube removed. Sitting in pre-op brought back some tough memories as I watched them connect her to IVs and telemetry machines. As she sat there in her hospital gown she began to cry a little as she thought back through all that we've been through, but we both realized that this was one of the last major marks of her recovery. The feeding tube was one of the first things put in, and the last to come out, and it represented a whole host of difficulty that she has overcome.
She told me that the last thing she remembered before going under was trying to recite T.S. Eliot's The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock. Before she went under she got out the words:
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky,
Like a patient etherised upon a table....
And the next thing she remembers she was waking up and trying to get all of the nurses to hold her hand.
All of that is to say that her g-tube is out, and so is Emily, napping comfortably on the couch at home.
