Hope gets a bad wrap. It’s viewed as tentative. Easy. Even foolish.
Anyone can hope.
To be viewed as strategic or consequential, we are told to:
- create written plans with measurable goals, or else we are just wishing;
- speak of lofty aspirations with timelines, or else we aren’t serious;
- build gantt charts with individual assignments, or else we won’t make significant progress.
But hope, it turns out, is the sturdiest of foundations upon which to build all of these agendas.
In fact, most all of our plans begin with a hope.
A hope that tomorrow can be better than today. A hope that our cause can involve more people. A hope that our mission can stir more generosity.
Hope focuses our attention on the future and what we can do. Hope expects. Hope creates enthusiasm. Lean on and into it.
Emily Dickinson, that wonderful 19th century American poet, tells us that hope will be there when we need it most.
“Hope is the thing with feathers.”
‘Hope’ is the thing with feathers –
That perches in the soul –
And sings the tune without the words –
And never stops – at all –
And sweetest – in the Gale – is heard –
And sore must be the storm –
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm –
I’ve heard it in the chillest land –
And on the strangest Sea –
Yet – never – in Extremity,
It asked a crumb – of me.
Yes, anyone can hope.
