Today I’m posting at Provoketive as part of their synchroblog on hope.
Hope is a difficult subject for me, as I’ve written about in the past. Here’s a snippet of what I’m sharing today.
When I was young, hope was easy. I hoped for a trip to the near-by ice cream stand on a hot summer afternoon. I hoped for the perfect new toy for my birthday. I hoped that I would be able to fake my way through my piano lesson without my teacher recognizing just how little I had practiced.
But as I aged, my relationship with hope grew rather uneasy. Despite my youthful abandon with hope, the adult me has frequently been afraid to hope.
I’m not afraid to share my opinion, even if it’s controversial. I’m not afraid to ask difficult questions, even if it means that I may not find a satisfactory answer. I’m not even afraid of spiders, and those things have eight legs and like a million eyes!
But hope? That one throws me.