H is for Hope

Summer is such a hopeful time of year. The days are long (and sometimes even sunny), my workload is lighter and I feel optimistic about actually making progress on new and exciting things. 

Toward that end,  I was hopeful about getting this blog posted yesterday. Sometimes, hope is not enough.

But other times, it's everything. 

Hope is funny that way. We want to be hopeful, but we sometimes step back emotionally, fearful that daring to hope will backfire, leaving us more disappointed if things don't live up to our elevated expectations. 

But what's the alternative?

Reality, some would argue. 

But hope isn't escaping the real world. It's focusing on its possibilities instead of wallowing in its flaws. 

Hope is what gets us through bad days. Tough times. Illness, loneliness, and the mundane. When we dare to hope that things can be better, that's sometimes the first step to actually making them better.

Hope empowers us. If we dare to believe that something better is possible, that feeling alone can send us in search of it. 

Hope keeps us from settling. On a job, on a relationship, or on anything that's subpar.

Hope is, to borrow a couple of clichés, the light at the end of the tunnel and the icing on the cake. It's a balloon that rises to heights beyond what we can imagine. Like that balloon, it can also fall back to earth, sometimes gently, and sometimes with the force of a wrecking ball. 

Hope doesn't protect us from disappointment or even loss, but it can cast a gentle glow on the days that precede them. 

Is it unrealistic? Maybe. But in those times, it's often protective, cushioning us from things we suspect are inevitable, but that we're not yet ready to manage.

Hope is something we choose -- or not. But whichever choice we make, it lingers, ready to embrace us if we only ask. 

And it's not a bad way to start a summer.