On Hope

pt. 3

Of course, I know it to be impossible to live without hope completely.
I know this by the frequency of which I shave my legs.

I am sick today, and still I shaved.
This, my friends, is hope in action.

Come rub my back and read children's adventure novels to me.

Bleak midwinter.

It's hard not to fall into the arms of winter blahs. There's so much
going on, and so many things I need to get. But I want to stay curled
up in this sunny spot on my bed with talk radio playing quietly in the
kitchen.
Last night I had an unsettling experience made more unsettling this
morning. My sanity, and memory are being called into question.
I know I make a load of stupid mistakes. But this, if I am wrong is
very hurtful to somebody else.
I hope, for the sake of the situation, that I am wrong.
But that would make me probably crazy. Like, for real.

So I will think about christmas lights. I will remember driving in the
car, competing with Sara and Jonathan how many sets of lights we could
see. Our parents made us count quietly to ourselves. Sara always
counted the most. She probably cheated.
We always accuse her of cheating, but I don't think she really did.
She's actually very smart and was able to figure things out faster
than the rest of us.
Sorry Sara, for teasing you about cheating.
I used to keep a string of blue christmas lights in my room because of
a Weakerthan's song. Now I hate the blue ones most of all. Those LED
lights make me feel carsick and woozy when I look at them.

Maybe I got that mixed up.

Maybe grace is in hope, and grace is in disappointment too.
Weaving in and out.

Now grace.

Now grace is something I can get behind.
There is movement in it.
There is hope in grace, and disappointment too. (the two are never far apart)
I would rather have grace stitched on pillows, but that would be
redundant because grace already exists in my pillows.

On Hope

pt. 2

I suppose that "Hope" is a simpler, sweeter word to have stitched
pillows than, "Life kind of stinks sometimes, there's nothing you can
do about it right now, so the best you can do is try not to get too
bummed out on it."
It would take too long to needlepoint.
Yes, hope is more practical.
But it means the same thing.
Like we need a reminder on our couches.

But then, I am not such a fan of objects telling me what to do. Like,
maybe I want to have tea in the mug that says hot chocolate on it. I
don't want to eat eggs off a plate that says spaghetti! on it. I feel
weird putting anything but sugar in the canister that says sugar. It's
so restricting.
I also don't like to have lined pages in my journal for the same reason.

Maybe that's why I don't like hope. It's too restricting. Too simple.
Too pat. There is no movement in it because you are chained so tightly
to the thing that requires you to hope.

While I agree that it is important to sit quietly in our struggles. I
know we need something to cling to while the storm blows and we lose
our footing.

It's just that in the meantime, let's be brave! Let's put one foot in
front the other, trust our bodies. Trust that we will be caught . That
we are still carried, even by rougher seas.

See that? Mixing metaphors all over the place. Storms and rocks and sea.
Sorrows like sea billows roll....you know the rest.

On Hope

pt. 1

I have discovered that we are much more comfortable when hope is
removed from the equation, and replaced with action.

I do no think that hope is the lovely thing we are taught it is in
Sunday school.

Hope has it's practical uses, but it's no way to live everday. It's
too connected to misery.

It's a waiting thing. It's what you do when there's nothing else to do.

It's an excellent last resort, but I will not have it stitched on pillows.