A Dangerous Thing

image via http://www.bradleygauthier.com

I am starting to believe that Frank Darabont might have been right:

"Hope is a dangerous thing.  Hope can drive a man insane."

Being a natural planner (read: control freak), I like to be prepared.  This creates an ongoing struggle between me, hope, and faith.  Focusing on hope and faith do not allow me to focus on control.  It means I can't have control of my own agenda.   

I will grant you, it is nice to consider that I could make my own choices in all things.  I could choose to make my family healthy.  I could choose to make the struggles in my life and in the lives of those that I love go away with a simple wish.  And that might work if I remain altruistic through my entire life.  And if that was available to everyone, what if altruism went out the window and greed and retribution were allowed to seep in?  Yeah, not so nice to think about it that way.

As of late, hope has failed me. There are new aspects of my life where I can no longer cling to the hope that things might be different. What I want to happen will not, and I must accept my new reality and move forward.

After suffering both a heart attack and stroke, my grandfather is vastly different than he was just over a week ago.  The strong, independent, outspoken man I have always known is now in need of help and patience.   While I could hope that one day he will heal and be exactly like the man I have known my whole life, reality says that while he may get better, he will be changed.  We all will be.

A few days prior, I was forced to face another new reality.   That wound is still gaping and raw around the edges.  The pain of that reality is so fresh for me that it is hard for me to speak of it outside of my close circle.  Even then, I struggle with the words.  Each time I try to reassure those who love me that "I'm going to be fine,"  I wonder if I really am.  I know that I will have to be eventually.  I will have to accept what is and move on and make adjustments.  I know it will take time and patience, and patience has never been one of my strengths.

And this leads me to why hope has been and could continue to be dangerous.

I want to cling to what was, to a time when I didn't have answers and hope was still feasible. Hope allowed me to imagine a different reality. It allowed me to envision a different future for myself and my family.  And while that hope allowed me to function at that time, it didn't prepare me for the reality that was to come. 

So now, when I would normally be moving solidly into Plan B (or C or D or...you get the idea), I'm not able to do anything.   There are no plans that I can make or lists I can check off that will change the reality for my Papa, my family, or myself. 

And I feel lost.  

I know that in time I will take the lessons learned and be stronger for them.  My brain can logically tell you all the steps, all the motions, and the eventual outcome.  Because, for all my realism, I am still an optimist.  I still count on God and those I love to get me through and to provide me strength when I am at my weakest. 

And some day soon I will have the audacity to hope again.

Just not today.