Such is life . . . .

If you're reading this, thanks. Thank you for letting my babbling interest you . . .

There have been several disappointments in my life, some which echo louder than others, and some that barely resonate anymore. More and more, as I think about the source, I think I come to an understanding of its nature. We are all longing for something we know not what, and have a faint glimmer of hope of its reality.

Everyone hopeless and hoping for something to hope for . . . 1

And we feel this as an uneasiness that sets in as we go to sleep, as we try to fill our quiet moments with the noise of routine, as we strive to be busy enough to forget what haunts us

Hope is coming, coming near
Hope is coming, coming here 2

I know my particular wounds are different from everyone's, but there exists a commonality. They make it hard to hope, hard to see something that is not, hard to hope for something better, hard to believe that the status quo isn't final.

Hope is definitely different than optimism. Optimism is the belief that everything will turn out well, while hope is the certainty that everything will make sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Take heart . . . though it is risky, it is not foolhardy to hope, to dream, to dare. It will take vulnerability, courage, and a strength you might not yet know . . . but never lose hope.

If you have taken the time to read this, know that I have nothing but love for you. Hope to see you soon.