"the hope experiment..."

"hope has a way 

of turning it's face to you

just when you least expect it.

you walk in a room,

you look out a window,

and something there 

leaves you breathless..."

Last night, my sister and I were asking ourselves - and eachother -  how it was, that a child could go through horrific experiences, and still retain a sense of hope, curiosity, and compassion.  Long after we'd ended our call, I continued to ponder this question.

I couldn't help but think of Sara Groves' beautiful song, "It Might Be Hope" . I woke with it playing in my heart this morning.  

I think hope is one of my favorite words - perhaps because it feels like the most profound expression of Life to me.  And, I love the shape of it in my mouth.  It settles my heart.  It allows me to breathe when I have been holding my breath for too long.  

It is the word that sustained me through a challenging childhood.  Later it would keep my dreams of motherhood alive, in the face of unimaginable loss. It has given me the courage to continue "showing up" when I have wanted to give up and just disappear.  

Why?  What is hope?  Where does it come from? These are the question that kept me awake under the light of a full moon last night. 

Then, this morning, someone shared this: 

"During a brutal study at Harvard in the 1950s, Dr. Curt Richter placed rats in a pool of water to test how long they could tread water.

On average they'd give up and sink after 15 minutes.

But right before they gave up - due to exhaustion, the researchers would pluck them out, dry them off, let them rest for a few minutes - and put them back in for a second round.

In this second try - how long do you think they lasted?

Remember - they had just swam - until failure - only a few short minutes ago...

How long do you think? Another 15 minutes? 10 minutes? 5 minutes? 

No! 60 hours!

That's not an error. That's right -- 60 hours of swimming.

The conclusion drawn was that since the rats believed that they would eventually be rescued, they could push their bodies way past what they previously thought impossible."

It hit me with such a profound sense of clarity. This is where indominable hope finds it ground - in the heart of someone who has faced drowning and has, in some way, been saved. The saved never forget that they have had the experience being saved - however briefly or incidentally.

Each healing -- big or small -- leaves a seed of hope in us. Each fear overcome, each time a hand reaches down and lifts us from the bottom of the well, dries us off, and allows us to catch our breath again -- we have been given the gift of hope. And the next time we face a moment when we feels as if we are drowning, we will remember. We will hold that memory of being "saved," and tread water a little - or a lot - longer. And our becomes a more resilient and insistent.

As a child, it was my younger sister who always gave me a reason to hope. Time and again she would lift me up and remind me to breathe.

Today, I am realizing that each time we encourage a friend to stay the course, each time we show kindness to a stranger, lift the lonely, bind up the broken-hearted, remind those who feel like giving up - that the are not alone -- we give the gift of hope. Hope that perseveres. Hope that sustains. Hope that heals. Hope that treads water until it is saved again. Hope that teaches us how to swim on our own. Hope that buoys our faith and enlarges our trust -- in God.  

I will leave this here. May you feel hope. 

offered with Love,

Cate