Hope is yours. I know you keep it in a box by the window. It used to reside in that box, in the dark, under your bed but I know you brought it out, sometime ago, and placed it on the windowsill. I know that each time you walk by that box you run your fingers over it. It’s a small thing, this box of hope. It’s so important to you, this small thing. This is right, it should be important to you. It keeps you strong, this hope. It keeps you breathing day to day even when things are at their worst.
Thank you for bringing it out of the dark. I’ll affirm your placing it where you can see it every day so that you’re not left to wonder whether it’s still there, gathering dust, under your bed. I’ll affirm the courage it took for you to kneel down, hands reaching deep into the mess under that bed and grabbing for that box. I’ll affirm the sense of great pleasure you took when you pulled it into the light and the deep sense of sadness for having kicked it under there in the first place. I’ll affirm the fear you felt when you picked it up and looked inside, fear that whatever had been in there would have long evaporated. I’ll affirm the fear you felt, that you would find your greatest fear is true, the fear that you are empty inside.
I’m glad to affirm next that when you opened that box the hope you stored in there long ago was still very much present, solid, colorful and waiting, always waiting.
So I’m proud of you, friend, for placing that box where you can see it. It’s no sign of weakness or doubt that you lift the lid to check on it as often as you do. It’s a sign of strength and health. That’s why we hold on to hope at all, we need it here with us in order to live.
Keep that box in the open. Open that box to keep yourself alive. Hope is yours.