Reflections on Hope

Sometimes I have found a way to do Lent well; other years, not so much. I was short on inspiration this year, so as it approached I asked various people for suggestions about how I might mark the season. One of the responses was "write a poem every day". After quite a difficult start to the year, I was by that point, in a better place but I knew that I certainly still wasn't in a space where I was going to have the energy or creative spark to write a poem each day. It did, though, prompt what I actually decided to do which was to write, about hope, for three minutes, everyday. 

The three minute timer made it feel manageable: and I kept it up, almost every single day. The odd days I missed I caught up on the day after; at least until I went away for Holy Week when it fell by the wayside entirely.   

Sometimes ideas teemed and I could have filled three minutes several times over, other days I felt like I was forcing words onto blank white pages. Some days, I guess you might have called what I wrote poetry, of a sort. Other days, not so much. Some of the thoughts or words or phrases might turn in to something else at a later date. Others almost certainly won't. 

Here are a few snippets: 

• "In the painting over my dining room table, hope is depicted with a candle and a signpost. A light, albeit a flickering one, and a sense of direction. In the background is the image of an anchor. The holding firm, the holding still. Can hope be both the things that hodls us still and steady as well as the thing that points us forward, urges us on, shows they way?"
• "Hope is the voice that still sings, even as the tears fall unexpectedly, it is the voice that reaches for the tune even when it struggles to catch its breath, hope finds its way, even when it can't find the words"
• "Birthpangs. Miracles. Struggle. And Hope."
• "I was given flowers today: a bunch of tightly closed daffodils, bursting with potential and possibility, but at the moment looking like, well, not a lot really.... but we look at them and know. There is colour to come. This is hope."
• "There is no doubt in my mind that if hope was a person, it would be a small child ... a child who reminds us that when the pressures of life and societal expectation are stripped away, people are, at bottom, good. We are born capable of great compassion, empathy, love." 
• "Sometimes I find my hope in dreaming big dreams, making plans, creating a vision. But not always. Sometimes hope is found in an organised jobs list, in making manageable chunks, in jobs ticked off. In the little things."
• "Hope can seem soft and fluffy, as substance-less as the clouds ... that slips through fingers, turns to nothing when you try to grab hold of it. But I'm not so sure. I think there is something hard and strong at its centre"
• "There is something about waiting for the fun to start. A sense of anticiation. The quiet cup of tea. the calm before the chaos. Tinged with hope"
• Hope is in many ways the heart of my work, of my faith, of my life."
• "Sometimes hope comes in the form of a phone call"
• "Hope is green, like the fresh shoots of spring. Hope is glittering and golden like stars in the night sky. Hope is bright white, a pinprick of light at the end of a tunnel" 
• "Sometimes hope is found among friends. And sometimes, hope is a friend in its own right. A friend that shares in our joys, that looks towards the future, that cheers us on. A friend who sits by our side in the darkness, holds our hand and whispers, don't give up."
• "Sometimes hope is in the fresh-faced new beginnings. The fierce belief you can make a difference. Perhaps this hope is naive at times. Perhaps its exuberance feels misplaced. Maybe it talks too much, treads on the toes of the careworn. But all of us would do well to hold on to this, even overlaid with doubt and cynacism. And just as importantly, how can we nurture it, or at least not crush it, in one another."
• "Sometimes the right choice is to take off your shoes and socks and paddle in the sea at sunset"
• "I am pleased I planted so many spring bulbs because spring flowers bring me so much joy. There are signs of new life and new growth everywhere. And yes, some of those are nettles and tangled weeds. And yes, there is probably work to be done ... But such is life."
• "I wonder how much even a tentative and uncertain hope in the 'after' impacts how we live in the 'before'?"
• "On days like this, when the sun shines, when the birds sing, when there is community and friendship and love and laughter, and spontaneous trips into green spaces, and trees to climb, and conversations ... on days like this hope feels closer, easier to grasp, more tangibly present. It can be sought at other times too, of course, but I am grateful for days like these

It was a helpful discipline and I am glad I did it.