There’s a famous saying: “Where there’s life, there’s hope.” I think you could almost say that without hope, we cease to live. We may be breathing, but we’re not living.
Hope and energy are intertwined. I remember my grandmother, Theola, often saying that she hoped to get to her quilting, or her flowers, or some chore outside. As she grew older, she was often short of energy. But I never knew her to be short of hope. She was a woman of simple goals and great faith. Her world was small by most standards. But she was a well-spring of hope.
I saw the loss of hope in my dad when he began to lose his life to cancer. It wasn’t fast, and it was hard to watch. I would visit and try to encourage him, to infuse him with energy and strength and expectation…to bring back his hope. But I couldn’t do it. My mom couldn’t do it. He had hope for life after death. But he couldn’t hope for this life anymore.
Hope is the positive face of a to-do list. When my dad was dying, he wasn’t making plans for next week. Plans are for the living, and they require expectation of fulfillment, and energy to accomplish. Hope is fuel and food to the spirit.
“It’s the possibility that keeps me going, not the guarantee.”
― Nicholas Sparks
I hope so many things. I have hope for personal dreams, for family, for health, for good things to come. I hope for those I know and love, and hope for those I know only a little, or not at all. Hope is an active and intentional desire. It isn’t neutral. When you express hope, you feel strongly. You believe in what you hope for. Sometimes we wish with all our hearts. We hope to high heaven. We have high hopes. We dream big. Hope sustains us. It is a force of the universe.
Hope is such a little word, and so casually used. I think we forget how important this small four letter word is to life. Hope is looking forward, not behind. Hope is positive, not blind. Hope acknowledges grace and potential. With hope, possibilities are all around. Hope allows the story to write itself, work itself out in good time. Hope reminds me that sometimes things happen
not at once, but at last.
I remember hearing my dad say that he had a hard time going to bed; he always hated to give up the day. He and my mom were often up late, working on projects, pursuing their hopes. She still works late at her desk. I’m more of a morning person. But whichever end of the day you find inspiring, the thing nudging you out of bed or keeping you up past your bedtime…it may look like work. But I believe it’s really hope, disguised in everyday garb. Hope keeps us going, whispers that it will be worth it…plants a seed-thought of what’s next.
“Everything that is done in this world is done by hope.”
― Martin Luther