Hope Springs Eternal
Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up…
the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up.
-Anne Lamott
April 16, 2022
With Easter, Passover, and Ramadan upon us, we hope you find time for celebration and the soulful renewal that accompanies the warmth and soft colors of spring. It is also a time when "Hope springs eternal..." (Alexander Pope) as Katie writes about in this month's newsletter. Thank you to the University of Southern CA for the opportunity to speak at the Newman Guild's Annual Meeting and to Regis College students and administrators for welcoming us earlier this month. We'd love to have you join in The Miracle Collectors conversation at Boston College's Faith Feeds virtual Book Club on April 29th.
Collecting Miracle Moments One Story at a Time.
Joan and Katie
I recently discovered that April is the National Month of Hope, a topic I’ve often thought deserved its own chapter in The Miracle Collectors. Hope is like the trees blossoming right now in New York's Central Park, each delicate branch full of possibility despite another brutal winter. Hope lives inside our dreams and our prayers, promises us another sunrise, a better day, or that this too shall pass. Hope is “…that thing with feathers that perches in the soul…” as Emily Dickinson described, waiting to surprise or sustain us, or remind us that a miracle is just around the corner if we are patient and open, and look. Hope is essential to our well-being.
After giving a talk in Denver in the fall, Joan and I received an email from an attendee with a story from thirty years ago that involved the sad and untimely death of her mom from cancer. After learning of her mom’s death, she needed to contact her brother. She knew that he and his girlfriend had left to go on vacation in Aspen, but she had no idea where to begin to look for him (cell phones were not yet available). After contacting everyone who might know his where to find him, she was unsuccessful.
She laid awake all night crying and praying and hoping against hope that she would be able to find her brother. When she got out of bed the next morning, she suddenly remembered a brochure she had received that spring from the Aspen Visitor’s Bureau. It was a typical piece of junk mail she would normally toss but thought maybe she and her family should consider a vacation there, so she kept it. As she looked at the brochure, she wondered where to begin; there were so many hotels, condo rentals, restaurants, and amenities advertised. She randomly chose a rental agency to begin her search and explained to the person who answered why it was an emergency, and the names of her brother and his girlfriend. The agent hesitated and asked her to hold. Two seconds later another woman got on the phone. It was her brother’s girlfriend. They had been standing at the counter, having decided at the last minute to pick up free hats for their kids. She and her brother still get chills when they think about it. As she wrote, “My mom was a great believer in miracles and angels, and I know she had a hand in it.”
According to Barbara Kingsolver, “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.” On any given day, most of us, especially now, hope for peace on earth. But I think Ms. Kingsolver is talking about a much more personal hope, the kind our storyteller so generously shared with us. The kind of hope that motivates us to make the call, forgive the transgression, pick ourselves back up, and ultimately gives us a reason to heal from troubled times and feelings of isolation or fear; to move on from broken hearts. Hope allows us to become aware of an ever-present light in the distance. (Katie)