Slowly but surely I’m starting to notice differences between each day. It is subtle and mercurial but every now and again I get a glimpse of the future and it looks appealing, somewhere I want to be and live in.
It feels a bit like watching high definition on digital television after being forced for years to view life as if on a portable television, with a bendy wire aerial and a dial to tune the four channels available. A move from a life in black and white with blurred features and occasional snow storms. (Although in the last six months the screen has been black as though the television has switched off as the changeover occurs).
Flashes of the future are a huge progress from the void that has been living in five minute chunks. Things are far from sorted, although decisions are being made and foundations are starting to take shape. But what is most apparent now is the appearance of hope. Glorious, tangible, delicious and there in front of me. I really cannot do justice to what the move from hopeless to hope means. But I know that those of you who have been there and got through the other side, know.
And when the chasm splits the darkness, one must grasp life with both hands and hold onto it passionately for all that your life is worth. And as is the pattern of life, a timely reminder occurred the other day, in the most hideous way.
On Tuesday I was thinking about events of previous weekend. One in which we followed a pattern of living life like ‘normal people’. Two days off in a row, breakfast in bed, a cycle trip with a friend and stunning views.
Then, I receive a message from numerous directions informing me a good friend and kindly soul is ill. It is a shock to the system, and a reminder of that fragility. It causes you to take stock, count blessings, hold tight.
Eventually life reverted back to the norm. More accusations, more time incommunicado, more lies (by act or omission), more tears (poor Peter).
It is your misfortune (if you carry on bothering to read this self depreciating drivel) that at the moment every time the blackness returns my solution is to write.
Mostly, to remind myself and you that all the things you are fighting for (yourself included) will be worth it in the end, to persevere through the difficult times and most importantly hope.
Of course, this blog post is not about hope at all. It’s about what enables hope. So, to badly misquote one of my favourite quotes from 1 Corinthians 13, ‘Love…always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres’, ‘And now these three remain: faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love’.