Hope is a powerful narcotic. (December '07)

2007 was not an easy year for the Yankee.

I will spare you the specifics, because you may well have had an even more difficult and/or painful year. The problem with retrospectives is that they invite comparison, which inevitably distracts from the point.

Another problem with retrospectives is that they are almost always an exercise in self-centeredness. When things have been hard, we wallow in our misery. When things have been positive, we tend to gloat (I know I'm not the only one who has received Christmas letters that detail all of the triumphs of the _________ household each year.)

So with all of that in mind, I'm going to try and avoid the wallowing (trust me, there is little enough to gloat about this year) while I try to explain my current mindset, and from whence it cometh.

There is a big difference between dreaming and hoping. The two are not entirely separate, but neither are they synonymous by any means.

For most of my life, I've been a dreamer. I've had ideas that sprung forth from the well of possibility, and no matter how remote that possibility, I would shape that dream and calculate how it might become reality. I would line up the steps like dominoes in my mind. If this happens, and then this comes through, then I can do this, and that will naturally follow...and then it will all fall into place.

When I started out on my own, those dreams were relatively grand. As time passed, they became somewhat more grounded by reality, but never tempered by pessimism. For you see, despite all of my crankiness and curmudgeonly ways, I have always been optimistic at heart. The Yankee cannot abandon the inner belief that, one way or another, everything will be okay--even if things don't quite work out as we'd hoped.

The past few years have put this belief to a serious test. One by one those dreams I dreamed were smashed to pieces. One by one the possibilities and imaginings were transformed into the shattered reminders of failure and lost opportunity. Slowly, but inexorably, the dreams became smaller and smaller. The dreams became less and less the stuff of wonder, and more and more the stuff of desperation. Eventually, the dreams even seemed to die out altogether.

As I said before, I won't list the various circumstances, but I will say that every time it seemed that I had a chance to get back on my feet, life lined up and tried to kick a field goal with my testicles. Then, as I'd collapse to my hands and knees, life would deliver a soccer kick to the face for good measure, and as I'd go fetal, life would work over my ribs and kidneys with Thai kicks. I kept 90% of it out of my blog, but it has not been a fun few months.

And yet, for all of that, I was never without hope. Even though most of the dreams have died altogether, hope remains vigorous and unbowed.

My life may not turn out as I'd wanted it to. I may not be able to provide for my wife in the way that I've always imagined I would. I will probably never impress anyone with my academic achievements, my income, or earned accolades of any sort. I am unlikely to leave any mark on this world within my own lifetime--much less after I'm gone.

All of which is just fine.

Those are dreams. The dreams are gone, and I shan't waste time chasing them.

My hopes remain. I hope that I can find gainful employment such that I can once again contribute meaningfully to the finances. I hope that we can bring our bank balance back up to zero. I hope that we can once again live on our own, free of external assistance. I hope that we remain relatively healthy, and that the injuries and pains we can't afford to have treated will eventually heal. I hope that tomorrow will have a glimmer of hope for the problems of today, and that tomorrow might come and go with no further problems having made themselves known.

The difference as I see it is that the dreams are goals, fleshed out and detailed, and founded upon the vanities and desires of the flesh (I mean this in the classical sense, not the carnal sense--a statement amusing enough in its own right, come to think of it.) Hope lacks these details. Hope lacks the substance and grandeur of a dream. Hope is not founded upon particular scenarios or specific outcomes.

Hope is the idea that, somehow, someway, things will be just a little bit easier around the bend. There may be no evidence to support your optimism. Things may seem as bleak as they could possibly be. Hope is what will just not let you slide into despair. Hope knows that it really is darkest before the dawn. Hope will not give you up to that dark night. Hope will not fail, for as long as there is a breath within us, hope will flourish, for with each breath hope may yet deliver a reprieve.

Paying off a credit card is a dream. Making it through one more month of payments--however that may happen--is a hope. Being healed from a debilitating ailment is a dream. Waking up tomorrow and making it through the day is a hope. Never again wanting for food is a dream. Having enough to make it through tomorrow is a hope.

Circumstances might be grim. Life's woes may assail you without mercy. Dreams may seem beyond your ken.

Yet and still, I implore you to never, ever, ever give up hope.

Dum Spiro, Spero.

When I breathe, I hope.