Hope

It's April. The daffodils are up, the Spring Fair is almost upon us, my birthday happens to be this month, Easter, too... . Well, I'm going to the Puyallup Spring Fair this year. I've never been and boy do I hope that at least one roller coaster will be running. In fact, to steal a line from my sister Anna's daffodil candidate speech, I love roller coasters. And I do. I love the ups and downs, the quick turns, the anticipation of a turn or drop that I see coming up, the lurch in my stomach when something happens I wasn't ready for (or even sometimes when I was ready for it), the speed causing my hair to fly in every which way, the slow climb that means something is about to happen, even the plateaus that seem to last a little bit too long but inevitably end. Why is it then that when I feel like my life is a roller coaster that I don't think of it with such fondness? Today I finally drew the comparison on my life and roller coasters in general, and I've made the decision to love the fact that my life is a roller coaster just as much as the real deal.

I am a happy person. I'm far from perfect, but I try not to be too critical and try to enjoy life and find the good in anything I can. But every once in a while (sometimes more often than that...) stuff happens that I have absolutely no control over and I feel lambasted. Usually I can rebound pretty quickly. I pick myself up, lean on the Lord a ton, try not to let anyone know that I'm struggling, do my best to keep the waterworks under control, and then attack the world with a genuine smile on my face. Recently, however, a compilation of struggles has left me at a loss as to how I, the Lord, or anyone else for that matter could help me get back to seeing the good, being the "me" everyone recognizes, and letting the fiery darts bounce off me. My eyes have been puffy and red, sleep evades me, and people tell me that I haven't seemed myself. Not good. I even broke my rule and talked to someone - shared my load, which was hard to do. But I did it. I talked with my mother. I love my family dearly, more than anything in fact, but confiding in any of them has never been a strong suit of mine because, quite honestly, they love to fix things, and I am hard-nosed and don't like hearing the advice and/or suggestions no matter how valid. Can you say pride? Anyhow, my mother has been telling me to have hope. Hope that this or that will turn out, hope that this or that will happen, just hope. I countered with my feelings that it is pointless to hope for anything I have no control over - job, friends, school, relationships, the plot of a favorite tv show or book. It just leads to disappointment or even devastation. So I began to move on and try and heal. Then after almost a week from our "hope" conversation, my mother said this to me today,

"I have to disagree with you on one point, Megan. Hope. To not have hope is going against the doctrine. It's okay to have hope. Remember faith, hope, and charity? Let yourself hope."

A friend of mine once said that he tries not to have any expectations so that he's not disappointed. It's a true concept: expectations not met equals disappointment. I started aligning myself to that way of thinking. But no more. Complacency is for the weak. It takes strength of character to hope. To anyone who shies away from letting yourself hope in fear of being hurt, disappointed, or whatever reason there may be, you're not alone. But I attest that there is more joy and happiness in having hope. Thank you, Mum, for saying the right thing at the right time. I am committing to anyone reading, but more importantly to myself... I will hope.