Looking for hope

It turned out to be a hard week to write about hope. This week my little view of the world seemed to have more than it's share of loss, mourning, injustice, hardship, sadness, sickness. When I think about what I hope for it's this: wholeness for people and planet. Kingdom come. I think this is why Barbara Kingsolver says the most you can do with your life when you have figured out what you hope for is to live inside that hope. 'Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under it's roof.'

How many of us have the gumption, the strength in spirit really to do that - to say 'I hope for goodness, wholeness, light and well being and most of all I hope for love' and stay there living with it in a week like this one. In a world like this one.

When I was depressed I couldn't. The mind lies to you and says there is no hope, there is only more drudgery. There is only more getting through, there is only more of this. There might only be more darkness.

I'm still learning this the thirties are more than tired - they can be a breeding ground for mental illness.

I'll end with this: I believe in Jesus but sometimes I feel like I can't see. So I look for the light he brings instead. I see it in money raised for a new widow. I see it in people speaking up and demonstrating about oppression. I see it in meals cooked and kids looked after and 'how are you doing' texts sent with some chocolate on the side. I see it in fair trade Christmas gifts and spending time with family who are hard to love and cups of tea shared with friends. I see it in parents who work hard at jobs they wish they didn't have to go to. I see it in diapers changed and toddlers consoled and books read. I see it in prayers prayed and love sent. I see it when I look in your eyes.

Hope

Emily Dickinson wrote: "Hope is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -"

Today is the first Sunday of advent in my faith tradition. Advent is thought of as a time to spend preparing ourselves for the birth of Jesus - the four weeks before Christmas. It's a time of new beginning. Each week has a word associated with it and the first week is always hope.

For a few months I've been listening most days to this podcast called Pray As You Go. It's not for everyone (in many season's it wouldn't have been for me) but right now the contemplative, liturgical style is giving me peace and connection. It always has the same format: song, scripture reading, questions for contemplating, scripture reading again, song and benediction.

This morning's podcast for the first Sunday in advent started with a traditional song asking for Jesus coming and calling on Jesus during the hard and dark times in life. The reading was Mark 13:33-37 which is a parable about being awake not asleep when Jesus comes. They had us ponder what kind of a year we have had. What stands out. What does Jesus want me to wake up to? What do I need more of and what do I need less of?

When I thought about what stood out to me this year the words the words came fast: depression, death, injustice, anxiety, survival, coping, irritability. Ambivalence. Heaviness.

All this to say - I disagree with Ms. Dickinson. Hope has feathers but it's singing can also be stopped.

I haven't written much here because depression being new to me took me months to figure out and then several more months where I was trying to dig myself out and recover. Months where I mostly felt myself but had a few low periods again too. And let's face it, it's hard for me to be vulnerable in my day to day life, never mind on the internet.

But it's advent and I believe in hope, even when I can't feel it beating or singing. I'm questing for hope this week as part of my advent pondering. And I'm writing about depression linked with my advent journey because this year I can't separate the two.

'The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under it's roof.' Barbara Kingsolver, Animal Dreams