I experienced a moment of synchronicity this past weekend – just as I was typing, “I hope the Ravens win,” a Tweet showed up on my feed about the limitations of the word “hope.” Patrick Brady (@MrMindMiracle) compares “hope” to the word “try,” pointing out the inherent weakness implied by both.
The thought made me pause. I rolled the idea around in my mind for the next few plays (where, I might add, my hope of the Ravens doing well was coming to fruition). “Hope” is a word I frequently use, both in my words and my writing. There are times when hope can be dangerous (as in holding onto the idea that an expired relationship may yet again find footing) and there are times when hope is essential (such as when it keeps us from drowning in despair).
And it’s true, that much like “try,” “hope” is passive. It paints a picture of wishing on a thing and then sitting back waiting for it to occur. And in both cases, action must be paired with intent for anything to happen. Well, other than the Ravens winning. Luckily, they don’t require anything from me to get into the playoffs:)
Hope is an important emotion. It gives us a whisper of possibility when everything feels impossible. It provides the inspiration to take the next breath when we feel as though our world is imploding. It gives permission to trust that despair isn’t permanent and that you can have a better tomorrow.
Hope gives the motivation to keep going even when you can’t yet see the light.
But hope is not enough.
You have to act.
I have hope and I’m not afraid to use it.
The discussion reminded me of a phrase I heard often during my divorce:
Everything happens for a reason.
Whenever that phrase was delivered by some well-meaning person, I would nod and mutter, “yes,” while silently screaming inside. You see, that phrase to me seemed passive. It implied that I should sit back and wait and let the reason for the hell I was enduring be revealed.
And passively waiting was the last thing I wanted to do. My life was actively stolen from me. And I was actively going to make it better.
And I didn’t just hope I could laugh, trust and love again.
I didn’t just hope that one day I could be grateful for my divorce and even for my ex.
I didn’t just hope I could bring purpose to the pain and create good from so much bad.
I knew I could.
And then I made it happen.
Baby step by baby step.
Replace “hope” and “try” with “believe” and “will.”
Don’t just chase your dreams,
Create your dreams.
Lessons From the End of a Marriage 