By Betsy Gonwa, 
I used to believe that people were, as a matter of their character, optimists or pessimists. I tended to be pessimistic, and I longed to be an optimist, and I believed I could be, simply by exercising “mind over matter.” But it seemed that no matter my efforts to think positively, I still discovered myself spiraling into despair at times, and there I would sit, angry, sad, and feeling helpless. These thoughts and feelings would swirl within me, becoming a storm cloud, low and black on the horizon, blocking my ability to see clearly. Where I traveled in my plummet down was to despair. I longed for hope.
Recently, when I found myself in despair over what I was witnessing, I was graced with the wisdom to know that I would not get out alone. I attended an online NonViolent Communication practice group where, with a partner, I shared my feeling of despair and my longing for hope, and explored two questions.
First, How does hope live in me? My response to this was immediate. Through perseverance. Through my choices to care. To work. To make a difference.
Second, What does hope mean to me? Initially, nothing came to mind. Just silence. And then, a Bible verse rose to the fore, “Always be ready to give a reason for the hope that is in you.” I was surprised. Out loud, I asked myself, “What is the reason for the hope that is in me?” And the answer came to me clearly. It is in the death and resurrection. Not the resurrection, as I expected, but the death and resurrection. For, resurrection does not come without death. Resurrection follows death!
When I spoke this out loud, I felt relieved. My shoulders lifted and my heart felt lighter. The anger and helplessness no longer loomed large, and the guilt and the burden that had joined them dissipated, leaving only sadness and grief. Bringing about change is not always about fighting to keep everything moving on an upward trajectory. Sometimes it is allowing death to take its course.
I was in awe, for in this moment, everything had changed. My sad feeling suddenly felt normal, like what should naturally flow from what I was experiencing. I no longer judged myself as apathetic. Instead, I was choosing to trust that something old was passing away to make room for something new, and that my hope lay in accepting that reality. With this new belief, I could allow myself to feel the sadness. It was no longer a gateway to monster sized emotions, but an end in itself.
Looking outside my window, I saw evidence of growth and death and dormancy. The dead leaves on the ground and the bare branches don’t bother me. For I know they will soon be covered with green buds. I see this cycle in creation and accept it. But, faced with an ending in my own life, I do not trust that it is leading toward a new beginning. I do not easily embrace change. Rather, I resist it with all my strength.
So, when I despaired at what I saw happening, my instinct was telling me to fight, to try harder. But, considering nature’s way, I ask, Is this meant to stay the same? Or is this meant to change? Perhaps, my work is to let it go. Perhaps, my work is to mourn what once was and will not ever be the same again. Perhaps, allowing myself to feel sad is the next right step. Perhaps, instead of resisting, I am meant to be channeling my energy and passion into the process of grieving.
Is some pending change in your life inviting you to stop resisting and instead to let go and let new life break through?
