Hope in a Terrible, No Good Time

The Way Out is Wow

I’ve had a miserable week. I missed my husband in a fierce way I hadn’t experienced before. A couple other potential calamities. Then the homeowner I rent my home from swooped in again for the umpteenth time, demanding all sorts of demands about the care of the property. I tried to keep my chin up but, dang it, I felt humiliated. Powerless. I finally had to confess that I’m disabled and on a very precarious financial footing now.

This confession made me feel even more ashamed. I don’t know why, but I felt hope leave the building. From the federal government’s chaos and shakeup to my own tiny corner of life, nothing feels secure. And it’s hard to keep hope’s fires burning when you think the other shoe may drop any moment. I had to say a resigned Wow. How much worse will it get?

But last night I was invited to dinner with a friend that I met through sheer serendipity—or should I say bunny-dipity? We met because I picked Bun-Bun’s dandelions outside her yard. I vented my cares, and her answer was what I needed: a sincere hug. Over a simple yet delicious meal, she spoke of the three things we all need: validation, connection, belonging. I was wowed.

My insides had been chasing each other around an endless string of obsessive thoughts. Gloom and doom kept knocking on the door. All this might be a normal part of grieving, but I couldn’t stand it. Unfortunately, the only way out was through.

And when you dare to walk through, there’s gratitude staring back at you. For me, gratitude’s kind eyes look like Jesus, and they beseech me to reconnect with the only way I can maintain hope. My friend was there right when I needed to believe in something better. She helped me turn back toward gratitude when I was mired in a terrible, no-good day.

And she’s not the only one. Friends from my growing up years are calling, and my church peeps send cards and sit with me in the pew. Like a bratty child, I must willfully change direction to avoid the pit in front of me. I can yell for help, but then I want to lean into thanks. Genuine gratitude.

Gratitude has many paths, and they all lead to hope. It’s fine if you read Scripture to get your hope drummed up. Or listen to great music, view great art. Laugh with friends. Kneel as ashes are imposed on your forehead. Dig in the warming dirt. Pet a cat or a dog or a hedgehog. Whatever gets you looking toward the miracle of all that is. As long as those things soften your heart, they all lead to thanks.

Or maybe you pray until you can’t anymore, weep until tears are spent, join some action group that makes you feel alive. Strengthen your connections to your people. Enlarge your world and find new connections. Fan the embers until hope comes back to life.

Anne Lamott’s great little book, Help, Thanks, Wow maintains that these three are the stuff of all prayer. With my terrible, no-good day, I cried help to God as I felt my feet sink into the quicksand. How gracious of the Big Guy to put a friend directly in front of me so that I could say thanks.

And thanks really is magical. Okay, I can be pretty snarky when things get bad (see previous post). But sometimes you have to laugh so you don’t jump off the ledge. Humor can make thanks easier, but no less profound.

I’m staring out my window on this almost-spring morning, where a little house wren courageously belts out her song and tender green shoots poke through the ground. The crocus and hyacinths are blooming, the daffodils readying their showy bonnets. It’s enough to make you want to spread your wings and fly toward WOW.