My hope quotient can be increased by things like sunlight, fresh air, and good news. Does that make me superficial, or even fickle?
My hopes are dashed when a series of negative events pile up and I feel that I can no longer shoulder the load. Does that make me weak?
My hope in the future, even my eternal perspective, can be overshadowed by the cares of today, the needs of the moment, the unknowns of tomorrow. Does that make me faithless, or just human?
And my mood, being the complicated spaghetti mess that that it is with so many twists and turns, can over-ride hope, or smother it. So does that mean my hormones rule?
I don’t think there are any clear answers to these questions. I ask them in the desire to draw you into this conversation on hope, and to let you know that I don’t pretend to be an expert on it. I have lots of questions, just like you probably do.
Yet, I also have hope. I have the kind of hope that’s like a roller-coaster, up and down and upside down, in dark of tunnels, screaming down steep inclines, almost losing my lunch on the bends, but it NEVER leaves the track. The coaster rattles and squeaks and it feels like it’s going to fly off, or throw me off anyway, but somehow, miracle of miracles and gravity, I stick. God’s got to be the chief engineer on this ride… if not, then who? ‘Cause I should have fallen off a long time ago.
How about you?