I’ve decided that hope is not a thing with feathers. And what it asks of me is more than a crumb. It asks me to stay in place, locked in a kind of never never land of dreamy expectation, unable to move forward.
Hope is irrelevant. It makes no difference what we hope for. Does this sound cynical? For me this realization brings a new kind of comfort. The world doesn’t care what we hope for really. What it cares about is how we get on with things.
So often life can pass us by, while we’re stuck hoping for something that isn’t going to happen. And that’s not to say that it’s hopeless. It’s just to say that sure – hope and dream if you want to on occasion, but don’t get stuck on the hoping. Move past into faith and action! Live your life in the now.
This morning, for instance, now that I’ve given up hope, it felt like Christmas morning. I woke up alive in my bed, aware of the pre dawn, the smell of toast, and the sound of Ben grinding coffee downstairs. There was a splash of sunlight on the wall, and the curtains looked tall in our bedroom and the window onto the garden was blue. Hope has a kind of desperation. An uncertainty. It may work out. It may not. That's hope for you. Without hope, you must make your peace with the moment.