Ahoy, maties! You go to the head of the class if you can answer this nautical question: "Where is the place called "wit's end?" Most of us think of "wit's end" as a condition, not a tangible place. Like coming to the end of our rope.

The phrase itself, "wit's end" comes from Psalms 107:27, "…stagger like a drunken man, and are at their "wit's end." In this instance, it is a place on a ship's deck in a storm-tossed sea. The sailors have to struggle to hang on. The sails of the ship are tattered and ripped. The sailors have no control and are powerless to stop the tempest or save themselves.

Arriving at our "wit's end" is a commonality to most of us. Who among us can't remember a time we exhausted any possibility of a way out. No escape. No help. No deliverance.

When I received my first diagnosis of serious cancer, I felt I was at my own "wit's end." I don't remember driving home from the doctor's office in Atlanta. Whether it was subconscious driving or the protection of guardian angels, I don't know. My only memory is getting out of the car in our driveway and staggering into my husband's arms. That was in the mid-80's.

Then in late 1997 I got the news again, this time even worse. Though I never smoked, I was initially diagnosed with lung cancer. Inoperable. Get your affairs in order. Further tests confirmed the metastatic spread of the original breast cancer to the lymph system and bones, including the back and skull. For a short while, I felt I had returned to "wit's end". Then some spiritual buoyancy kicked in and the air returned to my sails.

There are four "F's" that have kept my spirits boosted during these stressful times: FAITH, FAMILY, FRIENDS, and FUN.

Defining FAITH isn't easy. Simply put, it is believing without any tangible evidence. The Bible says that "faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." I don't understand electricity, but I believe in it. I don't understand how airplanes fly, but I put myself in the seat and trust the airplane will get me to where I'm going. So far, it always has.

I recently read a great illustration of faith. A man named Mack was at Niagara Falls with his good friend, Dario, a tight-rope walker. Dario mentioned casually to Mack that he was going to tight-rope walk over the Falls with a wheelbarrow.

"Cool," said Mack. "I'll be on the other side waiting!".

Dario replied, "I want to make this a really great show. I want you to ride in the wheelbarrow."

If Mack had gotten into that wheelbarrow, which he didn't, that would have been faith. Stupid faith. Not the genuine kind of spiritual faith we can depend on when we are at "wit's end."

FAMILY. We all know what that word means. Mama, Daddy, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins galore…first, second, third and then the "kissin' " ones. Some folks think it takes blood to make us kin. I don't agree. Our spouses aren't "blood" kin. Our adopted children aren't "blood" kin. Are they family? You bet!

FRIENDS come in every shape, size, and description. I have friends who don't have two quarters to rub together and I have friends who could buy a bank. A true friend warms you by his presence, trusts you with his secrets, and remembers you in his prayers.

A wise bear named "Pooh" said, "Friendship is a very comforting sort of thing." When it comes to friends, I take all that come my way. Believe me. They have made my "wit's end" experiences a lot easier to handle.

And finally, FUN. I have always been a teaser and have a hearty laugh. When I was growing up, a very proper aunt tried to teach me not to laugh so loudly. But I couldn't help it. Laughter is too spontaneous to measure with a decibel scale. Laughter is medicine for the soul. The latest advice given me by an agnostic, but funny friend rated a Kelly 10: "Look out for #1. Don't step in #2 either."

You may as well know the truth. I flunked finishing school. I walk, talk, and laugh like Nancy Kelly. Take my word for it, I "ain't" never even met Emily Post. If you put two forks by my plate, a long one and a short one, I would think you miscounted and some poor child was forkless.

When God made my mold, apparently he destroyed it. He destroyed your's too. We're all special, one of a kind. We each have a purpose in life. Until we drop anchor on that golden shore someday, let's just keep on keeping on.