‘Hope is the thing with feathers … that perches in the soul’

By Mary Kay Roth

My kids noticed during the latest family Zoom, so after we all said good bye that evening – my son and daughter called one another to discuss the grand mystery: “What’s the matter with mom?” 

Then they each called me. 

·      Anna: “Josh is worried about you.”

·      Josh: “Anna is worried about you.”

Admittedly, I’ve fallen down the deep and dark rabbit hole lately as I watch essential life-saving decisions – wearing masks, lifting lockdowns, collecting reliable data – based on politics and not medical science.

Emotional exhaustion? Pent-up anger? Really bad hair? 

My son Josh probably nailed it when he suggested I may be losing my generally reliable sense of hope. “Mom, I think you need to look forward to something.  Why don’t you choose a reasonable date on the calendar, circle it – knowing it could change – and that’s the day you will plan on hugging your grandkids again.”

Strangely enough, when I asked other family members to weigh in with suggestions, they found comfort in the past – not the future.

My brother, Brad: “Our parents went to World War II, our brother went to the Vietnam War.  If they were able to have the courage to face something like that, certainly we have the courage and hope to fight and beat this.”

My sister, Rosie:  “I know it sounds strange, but I have been reading and watching everything possible about the 1918 flu pandemic. In spite of some inept leaders and people behaving stupidly when frightened, they somehow persevered and progressed.”

One of my friends explained how she also finds grounding in the past: “History gives me hope. Good things can be born from The Rabbit Holes.  Pick any staggering historical moment and you will find an astounding historical achievement and a light at the end of the tunnel.”

I definitely needed to find at least a spark in my tunnel – so I went on something of a quest this week, asking everyone the same question: What gives you hope right now?

·      My lilacs in bloom, fragrant and full of color. 

·      Goofy sidewalk chalk art.

·      Those incredible YouTube songs: Everyone singing alone, yet everyone singing together.

·      Soaring pet adoptions.

·      Pride in my high school senior, a young man excited about celebrating graduation, yet who has risen above it all – and is moving on with his dreams.

·      Excellence in journalism – outstanding depth stories on the pandemic.

·      Looking into the pine tree outside my window and watching as a mother robin has built her nest, laid her eggs and is now patiently brooding as she waits for her young to hatch. The miracle of the life cycle.

·      People intentionally supporting local businesses.

·      The possibility of making it to the birth of my sixth grandchild.

·      Watching my daughter, who had to cancel a dream wedding she has been planning for months – and is now diving into making her backyard ceremony as meaningful and beautiful as can be. 

·      Walking in my neighborhood, seeing and hearing children playing and laughing. These are the souls that will clean up the mess that's been made. I think they are well qualified.

A dear friend reminded me of one of my favorite poems from Emily Dickinson, a hymn of praise honoring humanity’s infinite capacity for hope:

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words, 

And never stops at all …

                 

I love this Dickinson verse, an exquisite affirmation that a persistent glimmer of hope lives within every human soul.

What gives you hope right now?

·      People's creative resilience. Parents who are home schooling, people who really don't sew yet are making gowns and masks, grandparents learning Zoom, everyone learning how to do family haircuts, people throwing imaginative drive-by parties, people learning to spend time with others while wearing masks with six-foot distance … innovative people who are working to develop a vaccine and save our earth.

·      Home-cooked meals: I find hope in a simple trip to the grocery store and coming home to fill my cupboards – while I also find hope in people who are helping make sure everyone’s cupboards are full.

·      Being given the opportunity to see what is really important/necessary in our lives … the great awareness.

·      I feel hopeful every time I speak with friends who know me and understand me and share a history with me – and make me feel appreciated and loved.

·      Focusing on the goodness, kindness and caring of humanity, people giving and sharing their generous hearts. The inspiration of medical professionals and  researchers, people who go to work at the grocery store.

·      Truth gives me hope.  It can be buried, twisted, manipulated, denied, but it can never be changed.  Truth will always rise to find the light of day at the end of the tunnel.

The Dickinson poem promises that hope sings its song through times of abundance as well as times of adversity. But perhaps the real secret is that you actually have to listen.

Anna:  “No matter what, mom, the light continues to shine in your grandchildren’s eyes.”

Josh: “We have safety and love. That's all we really need. I think that's all anyone really needs.”

So, what about me?  I went ahead, tallied the weeks, decided to choose the first day of summer and circled June 20. Of course, the calendar could change.  I could go down the rabbit hole again.  But for now, well, I can hope.