1st December

Since the Lent before last, when I wrote every day about the spaces in between, I’ve wanted to write something else. Another pilgrimage together with readers and words, carrying an idea, listening and looking and learning. And for a while now, I’ve wanted to write about this. Bearing hope.

About holding and carrying and making hope. About a season that is meant to bring hope to us. About how hope is hard to bear.

Every day I’ll write something new, living out the hope-bearing, finding out (perhaps, a bit of) what it means. What bears hope. What hope is bearable. How tricky it is not to seem to be writing about bears.

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I don’t know what these words will be, especially this year. Especially this Christmas. But I’m going to write them. And if you’d like to pilgrimage together, I would love that.

[Image description: A broken road between a rickety fence and hedgerow, the greys and browns of a winter landscape, thick mist hiding what is ahead. Beautiful and lonely and unknown.]