Hope is fast and slow. Hope comes and goes. Hope is personal. –Tom Bowman
I am hung up on the word hope. I am curious where it comes from, how it works and if I can trust it. There are days I dream and marvel and anticipate and trust. There are other days I doubt and hurt and find myself extremely skeptical.
I want to believe in something better. I hurt for what has been here. I miss what has been missed: shared occasions, parenting interactions, connections and most of all a sense of love.
Turning towards hope is not always easy. It is like telling someone to believe in what they cannot see, feel, or prove. Maybe this is where the word hope interchanges with the word faith.
Hope is personal. It is individual. Hope is distinct. What gives me hope? This is my question for the month. I wish I could answer it for tonight. But, it’s something I need to let stir for awhile. Loss undermines hope. That means I have some work ahead of me to reconstruct it.