Hope isn’t for an elect few.
It should span cultural, religious and economic boundaries. But does it?
We so easily toss that word out in everyday conversation, that it seems to have become watered down. We hope for a good parking spot at the mall. We hope we make it to work on time. We hope our well-manicured lives don’t have to be too inconvenienced.
Others’ hopes might look different than ours.
They might hope that the water they draw from the village river doesn’t make them fatally sick. They might hope that their infant child will live past the age of five. They may hope someone might not worry too much about being inconvenienced – and notice them for the first time.
Hope is sometimes all there is.
A leaking, thatched roof. A dirt floor. Raspy breaths of a sick child keep the mother awake each night. Long, hot days with paltry portions to fill tiny bellies.
At the end of the day, hope is sometimes that chord they grasp – pulling them into another day. Hoping for a better one.
Hope can so easily be given.
We can spring forth an eternal well of hope for a child who desperately needs it. Hope is found in that Starbuck’s frappe you can live without a couple days a week. Hope is found in that lunch you can pack yourself each morning – instead of spending five bucks at the mall food court every day. Are you willing to be inconvenienced enough to offer a glimmer of hope?
All photos provided courtesy of Compassion International.