Hope

As I sat with my youngest child, now an adult going through some challenges, I tried to offer hope tempered by pragmatism. I am relatively sure no one wants false hope, but usually there is a kernel of hope to be built upon.  She is currently furloughed from her job in this pandemic world and, because it is related to collegiate sports, she is unsure if and when she will return.  To tell her not to worry would not be helpful since neither of us knows what will happen.  She will get to the other side, albeit maybe not as she envisions.  

Just as when our children are small, parents hope for better days when their children are hurting in any way.  I would love to be able to “fix it” as I did when she was little but, alas, we can put bandaids on their knees, but not on their hearts. 

Hope, to me, is valuable and crucial.  I never want to be the dasher of hopes.  I believe in wishing on fuzzy flowers, buying lottery tickets, hanging on to dreams.  I once had a student who struggled with academics due to a learning disability.  She told my co-teacher and me that she aspired to be a veterinarian.  My co-teacher, always the pragmatist, told me later that, by senior year in high school, someone should have steered this young lady away from being a veterinarian and more toward being a vet tech.  Maybe.  Or maybe she should have pursued her dream and discovered for herself that she was either up to the task or not. Maybe knowing someone did not believe in her would cause her to shelve plans to go to college at all, not just put the kibosh on being a vet. People need the chance to figure out their lives.

Some people are emphatic about what others should do.  My son thinks he knows exactly how my daughter should run her life.  I know his advice stems from love and concern, but this is his sister’s life and he is very much that person who does not sugar coat.  No sugar coating = no hope in some cases, so I cannot always abide by that.

Yesterday was “one of those days.” Summer school began virtually and I had nothing but computer problems.  I was hamstrung, frustrated, and annoyed.  I went to the bank and waited in line at the drive up for almost 30 minutes. Everyone was banking. A thunderstorm was brewing.  My frustration was growing.  I finally finished there and headed to Aldi for a few things, most importantly bacon to make BLTs the next night for dinner.  Of course, I forgot the bacon.  I dropped shredded cabbage on the floor while making coleslaw. I was tired and cranky and felt like crying.  Who gave me hope? My aforementioned daughter, who is struggling herself.  

In the novella, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption, Andy says, “Remember that hope is a good thing, Red, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.” Here’s hoping.