Hope is an ephemeral thing for me, which is probably why I’m so fascinated by her. (The concept. Not me, for while my theme song might be I’m Just Too Good to Be True, today’s post is about Bigger Stuff.)
She’s like the alpha male in a romance; there are moments you think you’re being screwed over, you know you’ll never quite contain the relationship, yet primordial impulse makes you want to straddle that energy all the same.
Anyway, while I have more cognitive posts about hope that are presently a-brewing, I offer a letter and an invitation. (Because some things need to be non-said):
I don’t know who you are. I don’t know how much of my writing you’ve read. I don’t know if you’re male, female, or even human.* 😉 But your comment the other day on [insert appropriate social media site here] was exactly what I needed to hear at the time.
How did you know what to offer when I didn’t even know what to ask? I find this very puzzling.
I don’t mean to denigrate your effort, but you must understand I’m not a complete stranger to encouragement. Frankly, I’ve had people with more known credentials than you who’ve been more effusive with their praise. Somehow, their remarks never warmed me as yours did.
It’s like you’re a hope ninja with super sekret hope throwing stars. You crept in over my stone wall and into the mud room. You slayed the Doubt Monster that none of us even knew hid behind the upright freezer. (Which we should have known if we’d been thinking, because freezer-burn and doubt are such natural companions.)
Please train me in your lightening-the-dark arts.
Please train the world.
I offer this letter in the humble belief it may add to your own hope. I’m sure there are days where even ninja masters know despair. On this day, if none other, someone appreciated your efforts.
By now you’ve probably noticed that you’re missing a set of nunchuks. Yeah, sorry about that. I know it’s an odd way to demonstrate gratitude. I’ve just never had good aim, so it seemed pointless to steal a star. Also, my theft was not for me, but for the greater good. What you’ve affirmed for me again is that while hope may seem elusive, it can appear out of nowhere, at the darkest of times, and pass through the lips of a perfect stranger.
Maybe today I’ll be that stranger for someone else.
Gentle Reader, I’ve purposefully left the dedication above blank. While this post was prompted by a specific interaction, it might as easily been written to any of you. I may not say this often, but your presence does matter to me.
And now, can you extend the theme? Is there a time you recall when the smallest of gestures made you feel you could turn a difficult corner? A stranger you’d like to acknowledge? A tiny awesome to share?
As a holy rollin’ preacher might say as they extend their arms and make spirit fingers, “Show me the love.”
*If you’ve seen the comments on my blog, you’ll know it would be hasty of me to prejudge your species.