Chapter 2 of Hope: A User's Manual - It has taken 10 years. 10 years of fits and starts. 10 years of on and off accountability. 10 years of successes and failures. 10 years. This could be said for a lot of things in my life. Exercise - I used to hate exercise...
Thank you! “Hope is a muscle” resonates with me. My first hour of the day is about working my hope muscle. I make my breakfast and coffee, then I go to my chair and read devotions, from my inbox. I write emails and forward devotions to some of my cancer buddies (I am a survivor) or other friends who are going through rough times. I pray for others and for myself. Mostly, I want to sense the presence of God’s Spirit within me.
Sometimes, I sit in my chair and imagine going to a special place in the heavens. I sit under a weeping willow tree, or I sit on a log by a creek. I go with intention when I am troubled. I am looking for answers, lessons, healings, ways to turn my life or a situation around. I receive a visitor who sits beside me and listens. They never give me the advice I expect. But they point out feelings, different perspectives, opportunities for healing within me. The visitor may be Jesus, or Mary, or even an ancestor. The willow tree and the creek are also listeners. In that place I feel loved and supported. It is definitely a way and a place where I can learn how to work my hope muscle.
A beautiful use of technology Linda! Thank you for sharing. I have always said that how we use it affects us; we can choose to mindlessly scroll , or we can purposely focus our intent as you share here.
I echo both of these comments - So beautiful in the different ways that we practice and work out hope. Just as some people exercise by running, others by yoga, others by lifting, (and some do a combination of all and others) each of us works those hope muscles in different ways. Thank you for sharing!
My own hope practices :Does keeping a gratitude list count? Whether that is in my head or in journal format, focusing on the things I am grateful for exercises the “hope muscle”. I just didn’t realize this until now. I have read articles and books (Kudos to Ann Voskamp) over the years, and while I may have duplicated what I am grateful for a few times, I believe it has helped my shift my perspective. I have always tended to be the “glass half empty” person, but when I count my blessings, I realize my cup runs over. Literally. Yes there have been dips and curves in life, but overall I am grateful and hopeful for what comes next.
That absolutely does count! That's one of the things that has been a part of these last 10 years for me. I use a wonderful iOS/MacOS app called Day One where I have a journal dedicated just to my daily quick reflections (my Awes and Aches). One of the best things about this app is that, after a year of using it, you can start seeing with one tap what you wrote on that day in years before. So now that I've been using this app for over 10 years, there's such a rich tapestry of what has been there before and I'm able to not only hold to the gratitudes of today but also return to the ones of years past.
Gratitude is such a beautiful part of working our hope muscles for sure!
I do not wake up in the mornings hopeful. My initial thoughts are often ones of overwhelm. (And this is an improvement from years ago when I woke up and made a conscious choice to “live” this day). For as long as I can remember, I consciously chose “not die today.” Growing up, I thought everyone woke up and made the conscious choice to ‘not die’ today. In my 40’s, I shared this with a therapist and that was when I accepted the support of medication. It made a considerable difference in my life. I no longer need to choose to “not die today”—but I DO need to choose to get out of bed and face a new day. I admitted to a therapist that it can take me up to 3 hours to actually choose to get out of bed and authentically choose joy. She knows my life story —and wasn’t surprised AT ALL by this admission. Evidently, it’s a common response among people living with complex trauma (CPTSD) who don’t numb themselves; instead choosing to “feel it all” as we heal. I could write a book on “strategies” I’ve used through the years to get up and moving early to start my day, and various methods have “worked” throughout the years. But I’m being brutally honest and vulnerable here to share that the struggle is still real. Today, it’s been 2 hours. And I just kissed my wrist and hugged my newest little brown dog and today will be a New day to live and give from a place of love, peace, and hope. I’m ready. 💞
Thank you for sharing this vulnerable and honest reflection. I see you moving into the choice for living each day. Sometimes we do that and some days it is much harder. Grace all the time.
Yes, indeed. When I was younger, I made the choice to live so “busy” and “productive” and focused on accomplishments that I didn't feel the full spectrum of feelings. I practiced chosen positivity for YEARS and it eventually became toxic for me.
Thank you! “Hope is a muscle” resonates with me. My first hour of the day is about working my hope muscle. I make my breakfast and coffee, then I go to my chair and read devotions, from my inbox. I write emails and forward devotions to some of my cancer buddies (I am a survivor) or other friends who are going through rough times. I pray for others and for myself. Mostly, I want to sense the presence of God’s Spirit within me.
Sometimes, I sit in my chair and imagine going to a special place in the heavens. I sit under a weeping willow tree, or I sit on a log by a creek. I go with intention when I am troubled. I am looking for answers, lessons, healings, ways to turn my life or a situation around. I receive a visitor who sits beside me and listens. They never give me the advice I expect. But they point out feelings, different perspectives, opportunities for healing within me. The visitor may be Jesus, or Mary, or even an ancestor. The willow tree and the creek are also listeners. In that place I feel loved and supported. It is definitely a way and a place where I can learn how to work my hope muscle.
A beautiful use of technology Linda! Thank you for sharing. I have always said that how we use it affects us; we can choose to mindlessly scroll , or we can purposely focus our intent as you share here.
I echo both of these comments - So beautiful in the different ways that we practice and work out hope. Just as some people exercise by running, others by yoga, others by lifting, (and some do a combination of all and others) each of us works those hope muscles in different ways. Thank you for sharing!
My own hope practices :Does keeping a gratitude list count? Whether that is in my head or in journal format, focusing on the things I am grateful for exercises the “hope muscle”. I just didn’t realize this until now. I have read articles and books (Kudos to Ann Voskamp) over the years, and while I may have duplicated what I am grateful for a few times, I believe it has helped my shift my perspective. I have always tended to be the “glass half empty” person, but when I count my blessings, I realize my cup runs over. Literally. Yes there have been dips and curves in life, but overall I am grateful and hopeful for what comes next.
That absolutely does count! That's one of the things that has been a part of these last 10 years for me. I use a wonderful iOS/MacOS app called Day One where I have a journal dedicated just to my daily quick reflections (my Awes and Aches). One of the best things about this app is that, after a year of using it, you can start seeing with one tap what you wrote on that day in years before. So now that I've been using this app for over 10 years, there's such a rich tapestry of what has been there before and I'm able to not only hold to the gratitudes of today but also return to the ones of years past.
Gratitude is such a beautiful part of working our hope muscles for sure!
Thank you for sharing!
Thanks for telling me about the app. I may try that!
I love Awe and Ache <3
Can’t take full credit for it. Comes from Carrie Newcomer’s song “Where the Light Comes Down”
I do not wake up in the mornings hopeful. My initial thoughts are often ones of overwhelm. (And this is an improvement from years ago when I woke up and made a conscious choice to “live” this day). For as long as I can remember, I consciously chose “not die today.” Growing up, I thought everyone woke up and made the conscious choice to ‘not die’ today. In my 40’s, I shared this with a therapist and that was when I accepted the support of medication. It made a considerable difference in my life. I no longer need to choose to “not die today”—but I DO need to choose to get out of bed and face a new day. I admitted to a therapist that it can take me up to 3 hours to actually choose to get out of bed and authentically choose joy. She knows my life story —and wasn’t surprised AT ALL by this admission. Evidently, it’s a common response among people living with complex trauma (CPTSD) who don’t numb themselves; instead choosing to “feel it all” as we heal. I could write a book on “strategies” I’ve used through the years to get up and moving early to start my day, and various methods have “worked” throughout the years. But I’m being brutally honest and vulnerable here to share that the struggle is still real. Today, it’s been 2 hours. And I just kissed my wrist and hugged my newest little brown dog and today will be a New day to live and give from a place of love, peace, and hope. I’m ready. 💞
Thank you for sharing this vulnerable and honest reflection. I see you moving into the choice for living each day. Sometimes we do that and some days it is much harder. Grace all the time.
Yes, indeed. When I was younger, I made the choice to live so “busy” and “productive” and focused on accomplishments that I didn't feel the full spectrum of feelings. I practiced chosen positivity for YEARS and it eventually became toxic for me.