Imagine this: Today is a typical, normal day. Your alarm goes off, you try to wake up while pulling together your thoughts of what has to get done this day.
Up, coffee maker on, you shower and get ready for your day. Of course, if you have children this simple routine is loaded with waking them up, finding lost books, socks, coats, and packing lunches.
If you have pets, you may fit in a walk and feeding too, or fit in your own exercise by running a couple of miles or doing some gym time.
Still, it’s a normal day.
We go through this routine countless times before we head out into the world. Without really even thinking about it, we live our lives based on a hope that everything will go as planned. Not a conscious thought always, but there nonetheless.
We hope the alarm goes off on time and we hear it. We hope that the car starts or the gas will last, hope that we’ll get a few more days closer to payday before a bill collector calls, and hope that our job is safe from cutbacks.
Kids? We hope that no one gets sick or needs a dentist. Aging parents? We hope that no one falls, that medications get taken on time and in the right order.
We hope all the time. It’s part of living, yet we don’t think that much about it until something unexpected happens.
And then…
What if something happens and hope is not enough?
Your alarm goes off, you reach over and feel pain radiating in your arm and jaw. Your car dies in an intersection and traffic is coming at you. Your child or parent is suddenly diagnosed with something frightening and terrible that you can’t even pronounce, much less fix.
What then? Is hope there? Of course it is. Hope is the first thing there. It’s as strong as the life force that courses through us. It’s innate and it’s involuntary. Even if we think we’ve lost hope, we find it sneaking back in.
But if it’s not enough…what do you do? Where do you go? And how do you live?
What if you have nothing left but hope and it’s not enough?
This is when it’s important to look very closely at what’s happening and realize that beyond the pain, the anger, and the loss of control, is space.
And yet, very often, it’s this space we’re most afraid of. We want answers! We want solutions! We want strategies! We’re go-to people, we’re used to handling problems head on.
Space.
Solutions, out of our hands. Strategies, out of our hands. Answers, and waiting.
Space.
When you finally realize you can’t fix, solve, or strategize through something, you reach a place of space and emptiness. This is when people say they’ve lost hope.
Except, is it really empty? And what do we do when we find ourselves there?
People reach for meditation and prayer, support groups, therapists and life coaches, all very helpful. But the truth is this is a space just for one. Just you.
It requires silence and it requires you. Because when you’re in this place of helplessness, no one else has the answers. You have to come to terms with who you are without your superhero cape, with what you offer, and your place in this universe.
It doesn’t matter whether you sit in a room by yourself, walk trails, climb mountains, drive, sit in a church or synagogue, mosque or temple, or even paddle a boat or canoe, the key is letting the space surround you without trying to fill it up with thoughts or activity, and doing that without fear.
Thinking is optional, but not recommended. Only in a quiet mind and soul can the whisper you’re waiting for be heard.
It’s not about fixing. It’s about accepting and learning how to let go of the need to control. We’ll always push to control our world for the good of ourselves, and others we love, but sometimes we’re forced to sit down, be quiet, and find peace in the acceptance of what needs to be and what needs to happen.
This universe is so much bigger than we are. Even if you think there’s nothing beyond this life and we just end and are gone, there’s still the mystery of the greatness of what surrounds us while we live.
And we have no answer for that greatness and its intricate complexity, just acceptance and gratitude for the gift of being here to experience it.
So when hope is not enough for what we face now, welcome that space and accept the soft whisper that says it’s time to let go.
And really, hope isn’t gone is it? It lives in a peace filled heart.















