6th December
After receiving the email from the 1st December on the 4th of December, you could be forgiven for confusion. And then to top it off, was there any email at all yesterday? No. No there wasn’t.
Yesterday, I found myself navigating a situation of injustice. Leading a group grappling with systemic harm every day, and the specific harms of yesterday. Confused, angry, hurt, and unsure what to do next.
There were things that could be done. There were things that couldn’t be done. Couldn’t be done now. Couldn’t be done yet. There were things that hadn’t been done, and the pain of that. Things that were still being done, and the pain of that. Things that were harmful, because of what was left undone, allowed to be done, ongoingly.
So I reached the evening out of steam to say something here. And wondered about hope. What I could say, today, about hope.
Because this is where hope feels too hard. This is when hope is a burden, born by the ones being harmed. Should they leave and find a different hope elsewhere? Could they stay, and make hope, in the face of things set against, built against, up against them every day?
The answer is not yes. It is also yes, sometimes. Yesterday, I bore anger, at the injustice. Bore tears. Bore the costs of time and energy and peace. Witnessed others bear far greater things that I could imagine. Wondered if they could bear hope. If I would be right to even invite them too. Wondered what my bearing hope would look like.
Today I took a few steps, trying out the weight of it. Bearing that hope. Fumblingly asking others to walk with it together. In awe, witnessed them bear it courageously. Uncomfortable, blundered into moments where my own privilege and missteps meant I was bearing it wrong
Found that it was heavy. Felt that it was stretching. Found that it was frightening. The unknown of it. The way space for hope can be space for pain on top of pain. Found that it was an excavation into soil where things could grow. Felt that it was rich, that it was sweet. And saw that it was good. Sometimes good.
[Image description: A city street with one of those electrical box things, litter, leaves and Christmas lights in the background. The front of the box is painted - turquoise, purple, and, in ballooning white letters, “hope”.]