Excerpt
I’m Deaf and Dying
Chapter 14
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul,
and sings the tune-without the words,
And never stops at all,
and sweetest in the gale is heard;
and sore must be the storm
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
and on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
- Emily Dickinson © 1891 public domain
H
ope and encouragement are two of the most powerful words in our language. I meditate on these words, as I am aware of friends and family working through extreme difficulties.
Sometimes, all one has to hang on to is the life raft of hope. Armchair philosophers like to ponder the “why” of something happening. Numerous books cover the subject.
Before my husband and I married, his father was killed suddenly in a tragic automobile accident. We were separated by a thousand miles; I could not return to the Midwest. I wanted to send him something meaningful, so I chose the legendary book On Death and Dying by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
This book has helped many people work through life’s endings, as well as come to terms with the transitions through the predictable stages of grief.
Shortly after his father’s death, I spoke to my future husband on the phone to tell him I was mailing a book. He reacted oddly, and I chalked it up to the stress of the sudden death. Later I learned he thought I said, I’m Deaf and Dying. That particular book probably would not have been all that helpful.
Regardless, I have no answers on why bad things happen to good people. Many people believe that things happen for a reason. I once heard a rabbi pray at the Indy 500 race. After he prayed for the drivers in that race, their crew, and soldiers serving in the military, the rabbi added, “And God bless the Indiana Pacers in the NBA playoffs this week.”
Does God cheer for the Pacers, the Knicks, or the Lakers, or does He give teams the ability to be excellent if players choose to use and develop these gifts?
While I have no scientific proof, I believe the little bird of hope Emily Dickinson talked about in her poem is in all of us. From hope can grow encouragement. For others who have no hope, we can give them our encouragement and hope may blossom.
Cynics may say this is bunk. Perhaps it is.
I cannot live in a world with no hope. Certain members of my family are Cubs fans, for heaven’s sake. There is always hope—and next season.
I choose to live with hope and encouragement—the alternative is a void. The Psalmist addresses hope in Psalm 130, “I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His words I put my hope.”
Perhaps it is easy for me to have a “glass full” attitude. I have not had a life burdened with tragedy upon tragedy. Nevertheless, I know when I am troubled or burdened with life’s load, I have found the encouragement of others to be like manna from heaven—when a card comes in the mail, a friend calls to say hello, or a bouquet of pink roses arrives.
Encouragement easily blooms into a bouquet of hope. I will pay it forward.