Choose Hope
The first daffodil
Wednesday, February 28, 2024 the first daffodil in my yard bloomed. My heart leapt as I saw the once brown bulb swaying in the afternoon sun. I paused and honored the brave blossom doing what it’s supposed to do.
Bloom.
Never mind the weather reports of an impending storm. No need to fear the blizzard to come. The yellow bloom stood tall in its own glory.
I thought of my therapist after Karen Fisher.1 This doctor said, “God doesn’t make any junk.” 2
The bold daffodil was no fool. The fabulous daffodil was simply being what it was supposed to be. Glorious. Yellow. Hopeful.
"To choose hope is to step firmly into the howling wind, baring one’s chest to the elements, knowing that, in time, the storm will pass."
- Desmond Tutu, The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World
If you’ve read Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots, you’ll recognize the story when I met Desmond Tutu. He stood stood tall and glorious, much like the first blooming daffodil in my yard.
Thursday and Friday, the winds picked up tossing my heroic daffodil to and fro. It danced in the wind and appeared to taunt the rapidly approaching storm.
Currently, the front yard has 3-4 inches of snow. The yellow flower is covered. But, I know it’s not dead. I know it’s still there. I’ve seen many spring storms. The crocus, daffodils, and the tulips always prevail. Albert Camus writes: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”3
Writer’s through-out time have written about choosing hope.
“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.—Emily Dickinson
No matter the chatter of the impending storm or even if you find yourself in the midst of a blizzard: choose hope. God doesn’t make any junk. You are miraculous. Life is sacred. Human life is sacred. You are sacred. Choose hope.
March 3, 2024:
Told ya, nothing will keep these beautiful resilient blooms down. And, dealing with the trauma of sexual assault might seem overwhelming, fearful and impossible. But, you can do it. Choose hope.
This doctor still works with our judicial system trying to rehabilitate and heal perpetrators. Because of her continued work she has asked that I refrain from giving her name. God Bless her soul. Someone has to do that work. (And, I’m glad it’s not me)
When this doctor made the statement to me she referring to the shame I felt after Karen’s death. It seems that shame is a fairly common emotion for survivors to feel—in spite of logical that says there’s no way that’s a survivor’s fault.
Carol and I use this quote in Paperdolls & Cowboy Boots.