I Give Advice

Hope, it is part of the magical air of the season. Hopes can be small or they can be large; I hope this dress still fits or I hope my friends arrive safely. Hope is something I have always had, though it is a thing that was not tangible for me until after my father died. It happened one warm spring day a few months after his death, I was sitting outside on my swing, chain smoking and weeping like a woman who had lost everything. Don was away at a track meet and I do not believe I have ever felt more abandoned, lonely and alone than at that moment. I was wailing, I cannot say whether it was out and loud or if I was only screaming in my mind, “Daddy, I need you!” I only know that suddenly I felt the weight of his large calloused hand on my shoulder, a firm but gentle squeeze and then I heard him say, “I’m here, Punkin.”

Since that day I have lived every day knowing that no matter what, there is always hope. Sometimes we have to encourage it to grow and sometimes there is nothing left but a small grain of sand, but there is always something there from which it will grow. The glory of hope is that you don’t even have to look for it, if you are there, so is hope. I feel fortunate to say that throughout my life I have had lessons in hope; they could have been something as small as hoping I could paint my bedroom blue when I was a kid to something as big as hoping to hear the words, you won’t need chemo-therapy. It is something I cannot imagine living without.

There is always hope.

Betty