Then at last we see what hope is and where it comes from, hope as the driving power and outermost edge of faith. Hope stands up to its knees in the past and keeps its eyes on the future…shall is the verb of hope.
Frederick Buechner, Secrets in the Dark: A Life in Sermons, “A Room Called Remember”
Sometimes it’s not just the knees.
Sometimes the past is waist deep
or swirling about the neck.
Sometimes hope is desperate,
sucking in great, choking drafts of history,
over it’s head, swept along
in rapids intent on burying it,
knocking it out on some jag of rock.
Hope knows, though;
it knows the past has
to settle out
to a stretch where swimming matters,
where strokes count,
where there is footing,
where there is a landing,
and a choice to get out
and take a path.
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