Monday, March 1, 2010

All-but-forgotten Hope

Today's post is from my other blog, but (shhhhh!) really belongs here!

Seems we never hear about hope anymore. What about it? Hope gets short shrift because it doesn't have the flashiness of faith or the fire of passion. It looks rather ordinary, pale and old-fashioned, and is confined to church pews and grandmothers' attics, gathering dust along with other once-admired jewels.

Hope has been shamed for its soft ways and quiet words. It says, "Some day," and "maybe," and "could."

But hope is what keeps people from dying inside. Hope sustains life. Hope endures change. Hope waits, when impatience and selfishness fight for first place in line.
Where faith is too loud or too bright, there is hope. Where faith cannot take root for shallow soil, there is hope.

Even in the rain, hope looks out the window. It hums a tune, counts falling stars. Without hope we would have apathy and despair. We would never try. We would never begin a thing. We would never consider what life could be.

We would leave miracles to giants of faith. We would never think to dream.

There is no such thing as false hope. Indeed, hope gentles the soul through endings just as much as beginnings. Without hope we could not turn off a light, close a door, or bury someone we love.

Hope lies low, stays out of trouble. You have to coax it out of hiding. But once you see it there standing by your side, you realize it has never left you, and never will.

What role has hope played in your life?


Larry said...

Hope skiddles from kitchen to shed.
"You never loved me anyway."

It messes things up, moving the shovel, hiding the garden gloves with a smirk.

You call me "it," and I am not it.

I would be close with you in the cloudy or sunny day and especially at night, when it hurts to be alive.

"I will go find Hope and love her in my arms. We can be friends, I'm sure of it, well, maybe, if I try."

It's hard to find Hope and it takes a long time because I don't know she is the shed, sad and under the work bench.

I will find her. I hope I will find her. I really do love my Hope.

Christi Krug said...

Ah, Larry, I know your skiddling, smirking Hope is glad to know that, and much closer than you think. I love your tribute to her.