I was trying the other day, for reasons that people who are being tormented with encouraged to read my novel-in-progress will understand, to come up with synonyms for hope.
None of them are entirely satisfactory; "confidence", for instance, smacks of self-reliance.
It is terribly easy to lose hope. I'm not even talking about in truly horrible situations--it's easy to lose hope even when everyone is healthy, fed, and warm, and when it seems that they will stay that way. That's why hope is a virtue, something that you exercise.
I've been reminded of that lately as we get ready to move. (And of the Simpsons quote: "I've directed four musicals, and I've had four heart attacks.") This will make the fourth house we've lived in since we've had kids; Miss Boo is four; it at least begs the question of whether I really ought to get so attached to gardens.
Over such silly things it is possible to lose hope--to decide that relationships don't matter as much as they should, that we (or our loved ones) are inadequate, that God is toying with us. We know, if we can catch ourselves, that thinking like this is wrong. But what can we do to pull ourselves out?
Well, there's always something to be gained by comparing ourselves to people who have it truly tough. I find homesteader narratives from the early twentieth century to be helpful, and wartime survival stories. (After reading about people trading gold for toilet paper in Sarajevo, one does not easily feel sad about not having the quilted kind.) It's a good way to realize anew how much you have.
Second, to realize what is important and do that. So I like a clean house, do I? Maybe I should stop moping and clean it. So I want to have a finished novel? Maybe I should stop perusing Facebook and write it. So I want happy kids? Maybe I should stop telling them to quit sitting on each other and settle down for a marathon Green Eggs & Ham session.
Third, I can focus on realities: this life is the antechamber to my real life. Only the relationships in it will last--those with people and with God. What does it matter how many times I switch houses?
Them's my thoughts for the day. Yours?
Cheers,
Breanna
None of them are entirely satisfactory; "confidence", for instance, smacks of self-reliance.
It is terribly easy to lose hope. I'm not even talking about in truly horrible situations--it's easy to lose hope even when everyone is healthy, fed, and warm, and when it seems that they will stay that way. That's why hope is a virtue, something that you exercise.
I've been reminded of that lately as we get ready to move. (And of the Simpsons quote: "I've directed four musicals, and I've had four heart attacks.") This will make the fourth house we've lived in since we've had kids; Miss Boo is four; it at least begs the question of whether I really ought to get so attached to gardens.
Over such silly things it is possible to lose hope--to decide that relationships don't matter as much as they should, that we (or our loved ones) are inadequate, that God is toying with us. We know, if we can catch ourselves, that thinking like this is wrong. But what can we do to pull ourselves out?
Well, there's always something to be gained by comparing ourselves to people who have it truly tough. I find homesteader narratives from the early twentieth century to be helpful, and wartime survival stories. (After reading about people trading gold for toilet paper in Sarajevo, one does not easily feel sad about not having the quilted kind.) It's a good way to realize anew how much you have.
Second, to realize what is important and do that. So I like a clean house, do I? Maybe I should stop moping and clean it. So I want to have a finished novel? Maybe I should stop perusing Facebook and write it. So I want happy kids? Maybe I should stop telling them to quit sitting on each other and settle down for a marathon Green Eggs & Ham session.
Third, I can focus on realities: this life is the antechamber to my real life. Only the relationships in it will last--those with people and with God. What does it matter how many times I switch houses?
Them's my thoughts for the day. Yours?
Cheers,
Breanna
2 comments:
Your threat almost makes me want to be offensive AND creepy, but then again, I know that you know me too well for that to be truly effective. :-) So, on your final thought, does it make you feel any better that I'm doing the same thing? Only I have moved at the very least every year, (sometimes every semester or few months), since 2003? And that I'm leaving yet again a place that I just about got some roots into, have to find a new place for the fall before I move into my first house with my husband in a foreign country only long enough to lose about 20 pounds of sweat, and then come back, with or without him? I'm glad you mentioned that we are but pioneers in this life, and that we can't focus on our physical dwellings, but the relationships we form during each season and location of our lives. It's pretty easy to feel discouraged with the instability of moving all over the place! Chin up and paddle...as clearly we are in the same boat! :-)
So I almost didn't recognize you with your new last name...because I'm dumb. ;) Your having to move sans husband evens up the difference between moving as a single person and moving with kids, I think. Glad it spoke to you--and it makes me feel a bit better that I'm not the only crazy one.
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