Some fragmented thoughts on the discipline of hope, garden therapy, berry crisp, an essay for these violent times, and the achievement of non-aggression
Thank you, Jeff. I really needed this today. As I sit on my porch having coffee on this early Midwest morning, I feel my tension slowly unwinding. I am still afraid, but you have reminded me that the way forward is just that...forward. And there is much beauty and grace to carry our hope. I know you miss Fozzie. I recognize that loss and grief. Prayers..
As a family who deeply loves our four-legged family members (sometimes more than the two-legged ones if I am perfectly honest), my deepest sympathies to you in the loss of Fozzie. We wept with you when you shared the news and sit with you now. Three months after losing one of my dogs, I was again crying while talking to my dad who was not usually the most empathetic man. Apologizing and about to hang up to call back later telling him I felt ridiculous for still crying about a dog, he surprisingly but gently asked me to keep talking and said, "The measure of the pain in the loss is a measure of the love in the life." I never met little Fozz but so enjoyed your pictures and descriptions of his interactions with you, your garden, and the world. Which is the start of the answer to your question of how your readers are cultivating hope... right now clinging to the words and hope of others like you, Nadia and Sarah. Like my dad's one sentence that day on the phone, you all show up in my inbox and enable me to, in the words of Nadia "inhale the good s##t, exhale the bad s##t." and breathe again. Thank you for sharing your lives and gift of words and the places you cultivate hope and find wisdom. Thank you for being the beautiful reminder that there is still goodness in the world. Thank you for being your lovely Eeyore self. You are deeply loved and appreciated. Oh and also the first person I have not secretly wanted to punch when they said everything is going to be OK. I might actually believe it now.
For me too berry crisps are the taste of summer. So many wild blackberries this year! Also tomato sandwiches on sourdough and fresh corn on the cob. I find my hope in the way my gladiolus have gone crazy during overwintering and come up with whole new colors, in seeing the great blue heron morning after morning, fishing on a nearby pond, in all the people who have been showing up for my neighbors across the road as cancer tries--and will probably succeed--to take him down
I have been feeling hopeless & anxious regarding the brokenness of this country of ours. I am grateful that my dad, who fought in WWII, is not around to experience this.
BUT-I “attended” Crosspointe as I usually do last Sunday & your powerful words on grief & hope have lifted me up. I have listened 3 times to the sermon & the lovely music that preceded it.
I, too, have to believe that there is hope & redemption.
Your title caught my attention because I've always hated that expression. Especially now, since my daughter has been dealing with cancer and horrible side effects for the last two years. The FB post comment, Everything will be Ok, makes me rage. A dismissal of my grief, her suffering,and our collective pain.
I too am a gardener and have found it one of my only places of true solace. I understand about the hope one can find and plant in the garden. It's the only place where everything seems to find it's place. Life, death, grief, joy.
Anyway....i appreciate the new perspective you've given me on the saying, everything will be ok. Perhaps it doesn't have to be trite. Perhaps it can encompass all of it.
Tai, I am so glad you shared this comment, because I, too, have not really liked this saying. It has so often felt to me like a way to rush past what's hard and what's painful. I suppose, like so many other things, it doesn't have to be only one thing. From one mouth, it certainly can be that. But from another, it can take on an entirely different sense. I hope that's true, anyway.
Thank you for taking the time to add your perspective and wisdom.
I'm not sure *everyone* is doing the best they can haha. There are some leaders out there who maybe could be trying a little harder, at least in the areas of neighborliness and consideration of the least of these.
I am drowning in grief over the sudden loss of the Love of my life. Your words today and my hands in my own garden bring a tiny bit of solace. Not hope. But some bit of solace at least. Thank you for pastoring me this morning Jeff.
I appreciate your writing so much on this topic. For me, my silent rebuttal to the phrase has always been "not for everyone." The world will keep spinning, sure, but not everyone will make it. Injustice and violence will take lives and it won't be ok. I want to scream this any time someone says everything will be ok. Thank you for writing about another way to hear these words.
It's interesting to me to turn a phrase over in my heart and mind, imagining the different ways in which it can be said. For sure there are ways in which one could say this or anything else in a dismissive, even callous manner—and I think there are ways in which one can say this that are hopeful, life-giving, and hospitable. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
Hope is a very tricky concept for me, especially right now when I'm hoping for some very immediate things personally and also generally hoping for a better future than the one I fear will come to pass here in the U.S. I have to remind myself over and over again that I don't need to FEEL hope as long as I'm ACTING like I feel hope— cultivating my garden, doing my voting research, going to medical appointments, cooking dinner, babysitting for a friend. Doing what's right in front of me without worrying about the outcome has been saving my life lately, but it can still be hard.
A wonderful timely piece. Thank you! I have decided to turn down the rhetoric the only way I can.....paring down the number of news sources and repeating “Jesus Christ; the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow”. And eating watermelon every day!
I loved the quote from Yumna Kassab "Sometimes the achievement of a day is not adding one more aggression to the world." I also feel like I am trying to find a balance that includes hope, so I don't sink. Thank you.
Thank you, Jeff. I really needed this today. As I sit on my porch having coffee on this early Midwest morning, I feel my tension slowly unwinding. I am still afraid, but you have reminded me that the way forward is just that...forward. And there is much beauty and grace to carry our hope. I know you miss Fozzie. I recognize that loss and grief. Prayers..
Dear Jeff,
As a family who deeply loves our four-legged family members (sometimes more than the two-legged ones if I am perfectly honest), my deepest sympathies to you in the loss of Fozzie. We wept with you when you shared the news and sit with you now. Three months after losing one of my dogs, I was again crying while talking to my dad who was not usually the most empathetic man. Apologizing and about to hang up to call back later telling him I felt ridiculous for still crying about a dog, he surprisingly but gently asked me to keep talking and said, "The measure of the pain in the loss is a measure of the love in the life." I never met little Fozz but so enjoyed your pictures and descriptions of his interactions with you, your garden, and the world. Which is the start of the answer to your question of how your readers are cultivating hope... right now clinging to the words and hope of others like you, Nadia and Sarah. Like my dad's one sentence that day on the phone, you all show up in my inbox and enable me to, in the words of Nadia "inhale the good s##t, exhale the bad s##t." and breathe again. Thank you for sharing your lives and gift of words and the places you cultivate hope and find wisdom. Thank you for being the beautiful reminder that there is still goodness in the world. Thank you for being your lovely Eeyore self. You are deeply loved and appreciated. Oh and also the first person I have not secretly wanted to punch when they said everything is going to be OK. I might actually believe it now.
I’m really sorry about Fozz. I hope that there are small bits of comfort for you and Tristan in the way that your writings are a balm to me.
For me too berry crisps are the taste of summer. So many wild blackberries this year! Also tomato sandwiches on sourdough and fresh corn on the cob. I find my hope in the way my gladiolus have gone crazy during overwintering and come up with whole new colors, in seeing the great blue heron morning after morning, fishing on a nearby pond, in all the people who have been showing up for my neighbors across the road as cancer tries--and will probably succeed--to take him down
I have been feeling hopeless & anxious regarding the brokenness of this country of ours. I am grateful that my dad, who fought in WWII, is not around to experience this.
BUT-I “attended” Crosspointe as I usually do last Sunday & your powerful words on grief & hope have lifted me up. I have listened 3 times to the sermon & the lovely music that preceded it.
I, too, have to believe that there is hope & redemption.
Your title caught my attention because I've always hated that expression. Especially now, since my daughter has been dealing with cancer and horrible side effects for the last two years. The FB post comment, Everything will be Ok, makes me rage. A dismissal of my grief, her suffering,and our collective pain.
I too am a gardener and have found it one of my only places of true solace. I understand about the hope one can find and plant in the garden. It's the only place where everything seems to find it's place. Life, death, grief, joy.
Anyway....i appreciate the new perspective you've given me on the saying, everything will be ok. Perhaps it doesn't have to be trite. Perhaps it can encompass all of it.
Tai, I am so glad you shared this comment, because I, too, have not really liked this saying. It has so often felt to me like a way to rush past what's hard and what's painful. I suppose, like so many other things, it doesn't have to be only one thing. From one mouth, it certainly can be that. But from another, it can take on an entirely different sense. I hope that's true, anyway.
Thank you for taking the time to add your perspective and wisdom.
I also remind myself often that I am doing the best that I can - so are everyone else.
I'm not sure *everyone* is doing the best they can haha. There are some leaders out there who maybe could be trying a little harder, at least in the areas of neighborliness and consideration of the least of these.
I am drowning in grief over the sudden loss of the Love of my life. Your words today and my hands in my own garden bring a tiny bit of solace. Not hope. But some bit of solace at least. Thank you for pastoring me this morning Jeff.
Sending tender care your way as you navigate this profound grief.
Cindy…I am so sorry. Holding you close in prayer this morning. 💗
Thank you for the words “Everything Will Be OK” as the first notification I saw this morning. ❤️
I appreciate your writing so much on this topic. For me, my silent rebuttal to the phrase has always been "not for everyone." The world will keep spinning, sure, but not everyone will make it. Injustice and violence will take lives and it won't be ok. I want to scream this any time someone says everything will be ok. Thank you for writing about another way to hear these words.
It's interesting to me to turn a phrase over in my heart and mind, imagining the different ways in which it can be said. For sure there are ways in which one could say this or anything else in a dismissive, even callous manner—and I think there are ways in which one can say this that are hopeful, life-giving, and hospitable. Thanks for sharing your thoughts!
I really needed this today. Thank you.
Hope is a very tricky concept for me, especially right now when I'm hoping for some very immediate things personally and also generally hoping for a better future than the one I fear will come to pass here in the U.S. I have to remind myself over and over again that I don't need to FEEL hope as long as I'm ACTING like I feel hope— cultivating my garden, doing my voting research, going to medical appointments, cooking dinner, babysitting for a friend. Doing what's right in front of me without worrying about the outcome has been saving my life lately, but it can still be hard.
“The one I think we care most about is a perennial: It’s hope.”
This. Every day, this. Thank you, Jeff.
Can we talk about the dessert? I’ve never marinated berries in balsamic vinegar - I must try!!
It brings out the sweetness in the berries. Just a little bit of balsamic, not too much.
A wonderful timely piece. Thank you! I have decided to turn down the rhetoric the only way I can.....paring down the number of news sources and repeating “Jesus Christ; the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow”. And eating watermelon every day!
I loved the quote from Yumna Kassab "Sometimes the achievement of a day is not adding one more aggression to the world." I also feel like I am trying to find a balance that includes hope, so I don't sink. Thank you.
Your words give me hope...