Finding Hope in a Hopeless World
Lessons from the garden
The four of us were walking down the hill in our neighborhood, back to our houses that are snugged together in a little wooded cove. We talk about everything under the sun most days — projects we’re doing, our kids, stories about our past lives that are funny or entertaining — but we had wandered onto politics this particular morning.
Voices carry in these mountain coves and hollers, and suddenly around a curve below us we heard the barking of another neighbor’s dogs. One of us said, “Let’s stop talking about this, we don’t how he votes.” Another said, “Yes we do.” Knowing looks were exchanged.
When we came closer the dogs greeted each other — the one we were walking and his two — and we exchanged pleasantries. But something felt wrong to me. This way we approach one another in this divided world is like nothing I have ever experienced in my lifetime. I hate it. Yet, I am guilty, too. When I meet someone new the first thing I wonder is, “How do you vote?” Why does it have to be this way?
I have been struggling lately with low energy, and a sense of ennui. I chalked it up to having a house full of company for several days. It always takes me a while to recover from that. But I wonder if it isn’t something more insidious? Something with tentacles into the fibers of my heart…
