When Hope Is Hiding

Sometimes hope lives where we can’t see it, we just have to believe it’s there.

I said that to someone who feels like she’s in a hopeless situation, and the words struck me. I pictured HOPE as this tangible thing sitting around the corner from where I am. I can’t see her, but she’s there. I have to believe she’s there.

I have to hope for my friend’s situation to get better.
I have to hope for my other friend to get better, too, despite what looks like impossible circumstances.
I have to hope for the Bills to win a Superbowl title in my lifetime.
I have to hope that next year will be the Yankees’ year to win a World Series.
I have to hope that this deployment will not get extended.
I have to hope that maybe tomorrow, enough will be enough in Israel.
I have to hope that my daughter knows how loved she is, despite how cranky I get sometimes.
I have to hope I’ll see my dreams into reality.
I have to hope that our political arena will get less circus-like sometime in my lifetime.
I have to hope.

I just have to. I can feel HOPE around the corner, looking out for me. Almost like she’s guarding the space where I can’t see. She’s fending off hopelessness and despair. She’s telling fear to take a hike. She’s telling anxiety and bitterness and pessimism they’re not welcome where she is.

Hope is what keeps us moving, one foot in front of the other. Even if she’s hiding on you today, live like you believe she’s there. Because she is. Even if she’s hiding, HOPE is never too far away.