one our less fortunate

Dan Evenhuis UK, 35

We received another photo from the UK today. This one showing some young people from Preston who haven’t had the simplest lives. What does it

mean for our lives to be ones that are seeing those around us, particularly those who may get overlooked? What does it look like to live for hope with them?

Thanks Dan, for the picture of some young people from the UK. As you see his photo, what images come to mind of young people where you live? We’d love for you to share them here.

inspirations from martin luther king jr.

Everything that is done in the world is done by hope– Martin Luther King Jr

At what stage in his life did Martin Luther King speak these words? He spent his life fighting to end racial segregation and discrimination, and poverty. He was assassinated at the young age of 39, but his autopsy revealed that he had the heart of a sixty year old man, hypothesized because of the stress involved with the causes he stood for over 13 years.

So when he said “everything that is done in the world is done by hope” I wonder if it was in the middle of his life, at the end? If his aged heart tells us anything, it’s likely that holding onto hope probably wasn’t always really easy.

If I let it, the quote gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside, and I can think “why yes, Martin, how right you are”. I read that quote again today, and I think that I missed the importance of his words the first time read. This time I thought about what life was like for him at the time, and what context he would have been speaking from. Then I start to think about his words in a whole other way. No longer do they leave warm fuzzy feelings, but the dawning that those words were a product of a life given to a cause where hope probably wasn’t all to present a lot of the time.

Martin Luther King had eyes to see what needed to change in our world. So did people like William Wilberforce, and Mother Theresa. These people changed history and have influenced society because they saw that life could be different to what they were seeing. Perhaps you could call that hope. That things can be different, but what does that hope mean if there’s not action to follow, to make that hope a reality?

So what I leave you and I, as we together discover the real significance of hope is, as you look out your window, what is there to hope for? What do you hope for? In what way are you helping that hope become a reality? And lastly, what do you do when circumstances make it hard to hold onto hope?

a reflection through poetry

Another poem was sent in this week. I love how people are processing what hope and its significance is through poetry. Various people have been asked to submit a short story, reflection or piece writing, and have been asked to reflect on the following questions.

– when have you most needed hope?
– when have you been without hope?
– what would you loose if you had no hope?
– how would that change what you do tomorrow?
– what is it, why is it important, and what would the world look like
if we all acted in hope?

As you read the different posts, how does it help you think about the above questions in your own life? As you think about it, if you would like to submit your own reflection, you can email your submission here: heather.robertson @ fusioncanada.ca. (We’re asking that it be no longer than one page.)

But now it’s time to share with you the poem that we received this week, this time coming from Serena, a Canadian living in New Zealand at the moment. Thanks, Serena!

What is hope when every day
another dream seems to shatter.
How can I anticipate great things,
when I also know it’s not going to be what I hope
I thought I knew where I was going
But now I honestly don’t have a clue.
Where am I going?

What You say is true
and without You all my dreams and ideas are
empty.

And though I have the gift of prophecy,
and if I understood all of God’s secret plans
and possessed all knowledge,
and if I had such faith that I could move mountains,
but didn’t love others,
I would have gained nothing.

Nothing.

Unless the home be built on love
it is nothing.

My dreams half began with love
and half with desire for something more.
Something great.
Something appealing

I pray I still get taken deep into cultures
and on amazing adventures
but these dreams not mine alone
But Yours to own.

I don’t know the meaning of living for love over dream,
except that I need You to soften my heart
But I’m scared to go there God
I can’t go back to breaking over every man’s misfortune
I don’t know what to do.
God.
Direct my heart.
You are the only hope I know, and I’m questioning where You are right now.

on becoming a swimmer:

This reflection was sent in anonymously, inspired from a moment in the pool change room. As we think about hope – it’s so vast – glimmers of it can inspire people to want to change the world, and glimmers of it can change how we see ourselves. Perhaps we are desperately in need of both.

Here’s the story:

On Becoming A Swimmer

I noticed this recently that my favourite pool has installed dividers and curtains in their showers, creating private stalls. This has just vastly upped my appreciation of these facilities. One of the reasons I haven’t been a swimmer, is well, the modesty factor. It’s just so bare-ing.

Ironically, on the very first visit to the pool with newly minted shower stalls, there happened to be a woman who seemed intent on defying the privacy measures. Way beyond what is normal.

This woman, youngish and very average, was standing, sans clothing, under the dryer. I guessed by her hair style that she was very trendy and a strategically placed tattoo indicated that she may have been a wee bit rebellious. But beyond that, there was no way of knowing what we often think we know about a person from the way they dress. But what I learned was that she loved her body. Contrast me, the newbie to the pool change rooms, going to great measures to ensure privacy by awkwardly tucking the towel under my chin, while balancing on one leg, unable to see my feet because of the dangling towel, attempting to pull on various pieces of clothing until I’m reasonably sure that I’m “safe.” In the time it took me to shower, dry off, get all my things together and leave, this woman was still, you know, in the buff, happily walking around, not a care in the world. Maybe you think this is because she fit the bill for the cover of Sports Illustrated or something, but no: she was as average as we come, nothing outstanding, with all the normal parts doing the things they do after time. But you’d think she was a princess. She was radiant, gorgeous, completely comfortable in her skin. There was nothing sketchy about it. She just had nothing to hide. And that was all.

I left the change room, layers of clothing tucked in, zipped up, scarf strategically tied, ready to head out, but thinking all the while… What did I have to lose? So, the next time I went back I loosened up a bit, tried just not being quite so uptight. When I hoped I was invisible – being somewhat between the swimsuit stage and the street -clothes stage, the woman next to me said: are you done with this locker? Not, who are you for having skin? What are you going to do about that (meaning the less than perfect areas…)?
The pool is teaching me not just to love the water, but to love my own skin, to revel in the way I can jump in and be perfectly at ease, somehow unaffected by gravity, somehow freed from the weight of all the things that pull us downward, both in and out of the water.

no news is good news?

You’ve probably heard it said that no news is good news. I’ve been thinking about the questions posed in my last post about the world getting better or worse, and about the stories that we often read in the newspaper. More often than not, those stories evoke the same toddler temper tantrum feeling I expressed in the previous post. How about you? How do you feel when you read your local newspaper?

Where are the glimmers of hope?

As people from around the world read this blog, wouldn’t it be nice to share those glimmers of hope with each other, and through that get a sense of the hope that is indeed out there in the dark places?

And so, the new addition to A Hope Story:

Each week, on a given day, you will be invited to share a story from your local newspaper that is a glimmer of hope.

And we’re looking for your help to make this happen. How can I help, you ask?

Help us work out what to call this part of the project!

So.

What do you think we should call it?

better or worse?

Finding an answer requires asking a question. I’ve been learning about how the questions we ask are also important in shaping the answers we get. And sometimes we think we ‘know’ something. But I wonder if we actually ‘get’ it. And so as we journey and reflect about what is hope, and what is it’s significance, I am going to ask questions that maybe we think we have the answers to, or perhaps feel a bit uncomfortable with. I invite you will lay down what you think you know and sit in the question with me. Allow it to help you think afresh about what hope is, and what is important about it.

I had a moment this week where I wanted to yell and scream at the injustices of life. Japan’s been ripped to shreds, four people in my community are dealing with various forms of cancer, my friend’s aunt just died from cancer, and to top it all off, Pickles, my family’s cat of 14 years, was put down because of cancer. I wanted to throw a tantrum, as a toddler might on the ground, and scream with shaking hands and feet, ‘it’s not fair!‘

It’s been a hard week to look out my window and believe that there’s good happening out there, in this world that can look like it’s falling apart that the seams. I work at a coffee shop part time, and have developed a habit of reading the CBC headlines on my phone on my way to work. It’s no news that there are more despairing headlines than not.

I’ve grown up with the word ‘hope’. The hope I’ve grown up with has answers that sound nice and look good on paper, but I’m not sure how it translates in the world out there. This week leaves me with this question, and I’d love to hear what you think – are things getting better or worse out in the world? What is there to hope in?

hope is…

Eli Ritz, from Edmonton, sent in a poem as a reflection for the question ‘what is hope’. Enjoy your read, and I trust that his words help to conjure up images of what hope looks like in your life.

 

HOPE is…
Written by Eli Ritz

Cafes that deal the freshest coffee
The Milestones you keep on crossing

The spark before your great idea
A smile from those who just believe ya

The welling up inside your stomach
Watch stars alone, and spot a comet

The finish line through marathons
With tunes that make you hum along

Open doors and fresh bread baking
Ice packs that sooth the back from aching

The tie that fits so perfectly
A dance that moves and sways like seas

When guests bring games you ne’r played
Vacation time on ocean’s bay

The sun that shines in bitter cold
The family tease ’bout getting old

HOPE is.. now

grandparents & birthdays

Janelle Goward, from Kelowna BC, sent a reflection of life around birthday parties, something that she, along with her husband Tim, would be well experienced in with three children of their own, and a fourth on the way.

"Say 'cowabunga' again, Grandpa!"

In recent years some of the birthday parties I’ve done have been parent participation- but minus the parents participating. Sort of the same thing with grandparents being there but not really “being there”. Kind of disappointing. Well, at one of our child’s birthday party, Tim and I decided to make it a friends and family event- a mini festival. Families were to compete in certain Olympic activities. Almost everyone came with team colours on and ready to participate in activities like  wheel barrow racing. Grandparents came too.

Olympic Party Bowling - birthday boy and grandpa

One grandpa in particular drove up to our home, walked inside our home up to the living room and plunked himself on the reclining chair. In his mind, grandchildren’s birthdays were a spectator sport. However, upon being told, this wasn’t a sitting party and that he was welcome to participate in the activities by cheering the athletes on, he engaged in his part. At the end of the birthday party, his eyes were alive and he said that it was the best birthday party he went to in his entire life. He still talks about it to this day and we’ve noticed him being a little more involved in our children’s lives. I guess hope can be found when each person knows they can play an active part in the story around them.

- Janelle Goward, Kelowna BC, Canada

keep it coming!

We’ve been loving what people have been sending in by way of stories and photos, and want to encourage people to keep sending things in.

We want more pictures that show how you see hope in your community/life/culture or stories from your life that have helped them understand what hope is. Or maybe you have questions around what hope is. Often our answer comes as we “live the question”, as Rainer Maria Rilke puts it, so we’d love it if you would be willing to share your questions, reflections, experiences, thoughts as be part of this conversation.

If you have a story you’d like to share, please email vancouver@fusioncanada.ca. To submit a photo, you can go to the photo submission tab at the top of this blog.

We will be pulling together the photographs and stories for an arts exhibition later this year. What a great visual of hope we will have when we can show all the photos together, combined with peoples reflections. We’d love for your voice to be part of that, so would love to encourage you to sit down have a think about what hope means to you, and how you see evidence of it where you live.

embers in the dark places

"Ember Kids" by Jared Robinson, Edmonton AB

Edmonton artist, Jared Robinson, sent one of his digital paintings in this week called “Ember”. This piece is part of a series called “The Pocket brothers” which is a walk through gallery storybook. If you would like to read more about that, check out his website here. Click on the image to see it enlarged.

He’s submitting his piece, seeing it as something that can be:

“A glimmer of hope, of working together, of reaching for the light, in the midst of less than perfect dark environments.”

How does this help you think about hope? Are there “less than perfect dark environments” in your own life which where you can see hope through moving forward, with friends?