On hope

It just is.

A few weeks ago I told my husband “hope is my least favorite feeling.” That might sound alarmingly bleak I know, but it’s been true for me ever since I was a little girl. Hope always left me feeling like a fool. When I’d prayed, bartered, and strong-armed only to be met with disappointment as months passed. Feeling stupid for ever thinking the outcome would be different. Who was I? Of course at 34 I have a dose of perspective and can see ways that many of those longings were fulfilled… even if much later, differently, or through a letting go that actually brought me to something richer. More authentic.

Nevertheless. Hope still often feels like something to uphold, most especially when I’m drowning. A torch I’m told to carry to be a good Christian. A thing people with signs shout at me to vote for. I’m a bit of a pragmatist. Bad things happen every day. Every. Day. There are no guarantees we get to bedtime with all our people back under our roof. Hope? Often I’d just rather not. Less disappointment. Except this. Breathtakingly stunning things happen every day. Sometimes it’s a sunset or a perfectly ripe berry. A piece of writing. Other times it’s laughter with family, forgiveness, or “would you want to be set-up with my cool single friend?”

A few weeks ago I stumbled upon this song (or maybe this song came for me? look at her touting possibility.) on a day I needed an anthem. A thing to declare when the internet offered endless reasons to feel fear. I’ve listened to it dozens and dozens of times since. I could try to insert different words here to excavate the considerable, abrupt, “no duh, how did I miss this” shift in perspective the lyrics offered. But overwrought isn’t my style. Mostly it’s this, what if hope is an element? A thing baked-in?

Earth. Water. Fire.

Hope.

It’s part of the fabric. No need to crumble trying to perpetuate it. It just is. We’re living in a story of all things moving us toward eternity.

I’ve been disappointed plenty of times. Broken hearted. I thought it was my job to know where the flowers would grow.

Listen if you’d like (maybe read the lyrics while you do?), take what you need, and leave what isn’t for you today.