Hope on a Morning Late in March

Hope on a Morning Late in March

The sun dawns a little earlier each morning late in March. Every day of spring brings a little more light and a little more warmth.

We fold up winter and put it away for a few months.

While winter mornings are a struggle and a challenge, a morning late in March can be a revelation. The dark, grey world in which we thought we slept is, in fact, a celebration of colors.

We wake up to more than sunlight on a morning late in March. As we practice opening our eyes we realize each morning is more than a list of things to do. A cup of tea helps us see hope in the morning.

Each morning reminds us it holds more than we expected.

Some of us have lost our hope during a long, cold, challenging winter. It is all we can do to keep moving and keep getting up each morning. Just as we were running out of firewood, out of energy, out of hope, spring arrived to keep us going.

It is easy for us to miss how spring turns the world around us brighter and warmer each morning. Our eyes are barely open each morning as we fumble our way toward emerging from our cocoon.

Some of us have been burned by hope and prefer to live without it.

We have enough of a challenge dealing with what we already expect. Why would we want more?

When we are ready to listen we sit for a few minutes and appreciate the hope of a morning late in March.

Drinking our tea we slowly open ourselves to the hope of the morning around us.

Late March gives each morning its own unique flavors. We taste each one, rolling it around on our tongues before we swallow it.

Finding Hope in the Morning

Some of us believe hope is unrealistic, maybe even the opposite of realistic.

We may be convinced we need to face the bleakness of our prospects in all their stark darkness. We focus our attention on the obstacles we must overcome, the challenges threatening to hold us back. Some of us are committed to do whatever it takes to completely understand the depths of how hard it will be.

Now, I also appreciate a juicy worst case scenario. I have responded, after hearing someone else’s dire assessment, “But, it is even worse than that . . .” We think it motivates us when we take the measure of the most challenging possibilities.

Difficult situations do not inspire us. Hope inspires us. We remember we have dealt with issues like this before, or we know people who have, and we find hope. Hope pushes us forward, helping us find ways through or around what threatens to defeat us.

Our memories tend to shortchange hope. Hope is not easy to measure or quantify, so we often discount or ignore it. We like to think of ourselves as courageous or insightful. Seeing our actions as hopeful does not sound nearly as heroic or significant.

Hope can feel small. It is not the bright flame of persistence or brilliant analysis. Hope is the spark which lights the fire. With no hope our fire would never be ignited in us.

Our hope may feel small or weak because we do not practice exercising it. It may help us to step into situations that will stretch our hope. We may need to build more powerful hope in other people.

We need to give our hope the fuel and oxygen it needs to grow stronger and brighter.

Recognizing Hope on Mornings Late in March

It is easy for us to assume our hope comes from things we can control. We like to think if we work hard enough or believe the right things we will earn hope.

Recognizing the scent of hope on a soft morning breeze late in March can be more challenging for us.

Many of us want to believe we deserve to have hope, but hope does not work that way. We do not qualify for hope after we have made a sufficient contribution.

Hope does not depend on who we are or what we do or how much we want it.

Spiritual life gives us the gift of hope as we sit in stillness in the morning. We sit by ourselves, take a deep breath, and sit listening to sacred stillness. As we sit the stillness within us and all around us reminds us hope is a gift.

We sit sipping our tea and watching the dawn a little earlier each morning late in March. Every morning is a new beginning to demonstrate our hope.

No matter how hopeless or overwhelming our lives may seem, we sit and listen to hope in the stillness.

Breathing in Hope

We breathe in hope on a morning late in March the same ways we drink our morning cup of tea.

Some of us draw in hope one sip at a time, savoring its flavor on our tongues. Each bit is a delicious experience of flavor. Others of us gulp our hope, trying to fill ourselves with as much of it as quickly as we can.

Spiritual life assures us hope is not something we need to hoard or protect on mornings late in March. We have an abundance of hope waiting for us. There is no need to conserve hope, to save it for a more hopeless time. Each of us, all of us can revel in our hope every morning. There is no deficit of hope, no matter how we might feel.

Hope is renewed and replenished for us each day. We breathe in hope as we listen to sacred stillness.

Breathing in the hope of a morning late in March is a contemplative practice. As we are open to spiritual life within us and around us we receive hope.

Hope sparks the fire of inspiration within us each morning.

Where will we find hope on this morning late in March?

How will we experience hope each morning this week?

[Image by FredMikeRudy]

Greg Richardson is a spiritual director in Southern California. He is a recovering assistant district attorney and associate university professor, and is a lay Oblate with New Camaldoli Hermitage near Big Sur, California. Greg’s email address is StrategicMonk@gmail.com.