It seems a funny one to think on at the moment, when so much is geared towards worries and concerns. Thank you to Hannah for reframing this with such an eloquent and quietly refreshing theme for today.
Hope has been a shift in speed as we start putting plans for action: a change from waiting and watching to thinking and doing. Doing what we do best, which is listening, and contemplating, and responding. And ensuring that we do not try to leap from the first to the third, because we’ve learned from last mistakes that contemplation is vital to good, strong, hopeful decisions.
Hope has been watching something stir in an eleven year old boy as a Headteacher spoke to him directly through a screen, telling him not to worry, they were thinking about him and already planning for his arrival in September.
Hope was building aeroplanes from duplo blocks, all primary colours and shiny plastic, picking out red from blue and calling it green with defiance and certainty all the same.
Hope was watching radish sprouts appear and realising that just the right tilt would put us in charge of raining, playing God over soil like masters of our own little universe.
Hope was coffee made by another human being that I don’t know, whose name was Aaron, with only a cup holder between our pleases and thank yous.
Hope might give false impressions of naivety and momentary, but far from it, Hope stands unwavering in a way that anxiety and fear could only dream of. Whilst being afraid drives us into pits of inaction, Hope gives us purpose and meaning. It helps us to remember why we do what we do, and how.
Hope is exactly what we need, because whilst Hope is sneered at for its unadulterated optimism and seeking out of bright spots and glimmers, it is relentless and never-ending. In a world of fleeting feelings and reaction over reason, Hope remains.