The way to love someone
is to lightly run your finger over that person's soul
until you find a crack,
and then gently pour your love into that crack.
~Keith Miller

Monday, August 8, 2016

He woos us along with an outstretched invisible hand and we reach for him, stretching in faith ... hoping for something we don't know quite what. Yes, I know how that feels.

Thankful that I know how that feels. 

21 Nov 11

Been thinking about "that" idea lately  - I noted it in November 2011 but didn't post until January of 2012.  I remember I did make a choice to see what hoping for something we don't know quite what was or might become. I remember making a choice. remember thinking this is something, I don't know what and I remember it was about choosing to trust.  I think the hoping was part of it too because I either was, or soon would be, thinking about hope.  This hope:

protects, trusts, hopes, persevere - loves 


from True North May 2011
Hope doesn't seem like that big a deal. Maybe I just don't quite get it. I mean, in that string of words ... protect,trust,hope, ... doesn't hope seem to stand away from the others? The other words seem to have actions that I can see wrapped around them. I see a protect clearly ... something stronger, more able, protects something vulnerable. Trust ... a handshake or a hand clasp as one binds themselves to another in support of a common good ... that's just a tiny illustration of trust, I know ... but again, like protect, I can see an image there of what trust might look like. Persevere ... too easy to see ... one is either in the game, or on the bench/sidelines. Persevere, you're either in or you're out ... breaks are okay as long as they are about resetting to hit it again! ... it's an attitude. Love ... well, love is accompanied by actions ... we all know what love looks like ... hmmm ... that may be too encompassing, because I sure have seen hateful acts labeled "love" ... and it's also true that love is expressed in personalized ways ... love is active though. I can see love even if I am unable to interpret all loving acts as love. Hope though ... well what does hope look like? Hope seems to be an expectation, rather then an activity. I hope my child will catch the bus to school today. He waits at the appropriate place, at the appropriate time, hoping that the bus will arrive. I blow him a kiss and wave goodbye, hoping that the bus ride goes as expected ... as hoped for. Hope is a little fuzzy for me as words go ... hope is a bit esoteric for me. 
I've been hoping to win the lottery. I can't hope any harder to win the lottery then I already do ... it would leapfrog me to a huge pile of toys ... I would like that quite a bit I think ... so far, hope hasn't panned out there ... now I very seldom put a dollar bill out there in support of that particular hope. The Bible expresses hope as the hope of my/yours/our salvation ... as faith's little sister sorta. Hope has been under-rated by me ... practically unattended to until just recently.
Now I am seeing faith and hope sort of like a slinky ... that toy that is a coil of wire that cartwheels over itself 
----------------------... on it's way to love.

Now the three of these remain ... faith, hope, love.
Hope is a step of faith ... faith is a demonstration of hope ... 

as I journey towards the realization of God's love for me. Is that it? 
I'm thinking about it. I'm thinking about it within the context that we are all in this together ... it's an individual's journey, but we have buddies we walk along side of as we journey. 

So, I had already been thinking about hope.  Emily Dickinson writes. Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all. 

As I thought (and wondered) about hope I wanted to be informed by what other's thoughts on hope were.  Mandela was someone I could  relate to. Speech from the Dock quote by Nelson Mandela on 20 April 1964

“I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.” ~ Speech from the DOCK quote
Mandela's life, among other admirable qualities, stands out to me as a graceful, yet strong, stand against the humiliatingly dehumanizing, debilitating effects of oppression, domination and deprivation.  It seems to me that he exercised hope in the face of a situation which looked quite hopeless.  I really like seeing people express "big gifts" like this - it has a glimmer of the Divine.

Anyway - it was something I was thinking about ... and that "thinking" has been again on my mind of late.  C and I had a conversation which recalled some of the choices made several years ago.  As I looked out the window during a comfortable break in that conversation, I  suddenly  remembered when hope's song was silent.  I was looking for God's hand, curled up in the tiniest "soul ball" possible, I was looking for God's hand because in that situation it was the only possible hope.

He woos us along with an outstretched invisible hand and we reach for him, stretching in faith ... hoping for something we don't know quite what. Yes, I know how that feels.

It's funny how live works at resolving some of the torments that living introduces.  And it's funny how not black and white the processes are.  I want to be a good buddy for the journey.

That slip and fall the other day has "sat me down" for several days ... I'm not walking normally yet, but getting there.  I think I've been needing some "still" time.  I've been trying to smooth out some of the "noise" in my life.  Not being in my own "nest" has been more unsettling for me than I expected.  I've also been aggravated by how unconcerned my husband seems to be by it all.  He seems to be practically oblivious as he enjoys the spectacle of the political circus. He's comfortable waiting to see how the economy fares.  We found a house, rather a builder, a perfect lot, and a workable floorpan that will be ready before the end of the year.  We agreed that it was a good fit. I was ready to start picking out a few finishes, start making a few tradeoffs that would cover the additional cost of a nice bathtub.  Being over at our old house reminded me of how lovely  .... a great refrigerator with ice from the door is ... a top notch dishwasher (this one spits out salt and peppery looking stuff that settles on the "clean dishes" and cooks on them during the drying process (it's gunk in the old pipes)) is ... a gas stove (I'm trying so hard to cook on this electric stovetop and yet the house routinely fills with the smoke of my efforts).  Being at the old house reminded me of how lovely hot soak baths are.  Those old oversized bathtubs are practically decadent when filled with hot water.  And ...  I can barely keep my plants alive in their pots on the back porch ... it's scorching hot here and they dry out so fast.  If we are away for a few days they suffer.  And Sammy has broken more then a few of the smaller pots.  He may be chasing a possum from behind them at night or maybe he is just amusing himself dumping them over and rolling them around.  Container gardening is going to take more effort ... I want some ground of my own to start working in.  I sent the floor plan of that house to my bff so we could start doing the happy dance together over this wonderful home thing.  My husband thinks we better wait to see how things, and there are a lot of them, settle out.  I'm trying to figure out what to do towards tending to my "get happy" in the meantime.  I really do think the day to day stuff (like living in your own home ... like having something that your physically working at) is less important then I want to make it.  I think happy is a choice, rather than a result of choices.

I've been trying to trim away the things in my life (that I can) that just suck energy without adding good stuff.

I'm trying to make some room for hope.

All that blustering and braying of the two candidates is wearing me out.  They are both hot messes in a long line of hot messes.  I just want to make a tiny island of sustainable calm and order - that's what home is to me.  So ... I've decided to do a couple of things to help with that.  One is just reorganizing, cleaning out and putting in some happy looking shelf paper in to the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen.  Yesterday I spent 30 minutes looking for wasabi paste and it's those little aggravations that remind me of death by a thousand cuts.  I can't take the unnecessary cuts ... I can't take them in the kitchen or in any places of aggravation (it's that protecting oneself thing ... we do it in our world, we do it in our relationships ... we stop being vulnerable). I know.  That's almost nothing.  ... A whole stack of "nothing" becomes a hole.

Life is slippery enough without the holes.   Hope is harder when you are working around a lot of holes.


Hope is a step of faith.
Faith in God's love for me.

I want to make choices that support hope.

I know about reaching for an invisible hand, and I know when it's God's hand ... everything is ok.


vanderleun said...

"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things. And no good thing ever dies."

DeAnn said...

Thank you Gerard - that's a good note.