Felon’s Alphabet: H is for Hope

Hope is a dirty word.

A four-letter word. Incarcerated persons, especially those doing long sentences, lifers and of course Life Without the Possibility of Parole (LWOPS) have often expressed an aversion to hope.

Upon further questioning, their answers remain eerily similar – to hope is scary. Simply put, they

are afraid to hope. Afraid of not having their hopes realized. Afraid of how that pain will feel. However, to hope is to be human.

“H” is for hope.

Webster’s Dictionary defines hope as “A feeling that what is wanted will happen; a desire accompanied by expectation.”

Let’s face it, there are no certainties. And yes, what we hope for, we may simply not get. And yet, that is OK too. Unfortunately, it is part and parcel of the human experience.

Granted, it is easier for some of us to hope than it is for others. Personality, temperament, and lived experiences will color the way we approach hope. So, for those among you whose glasses are perpetually half empty, I posit that hope will replenish your glass into a half-full status, provided you allow it to.

The hope that tomorrow will be better than today will give you the much-needed boost to get by and keep going. The faith that the next moment will be more palatable than this one will keep you seated at life’s table and bravely tasting each dish on offer.

Hope is the premium unleaded gas your lowrider needs to be road-ready. And road-ready you must be, there is atonement to be done, amends to be made, selfie-worthy destinations camera

ready for you, and loved ones eager for your presence. Hope, and get it done.

It can feel like apathy may be easier, coasting and letting the tidal wave of life’s struggles drown you. It may seem like giving in is easier than daring to hope, resisting that nagging voice that won’t stop telling you, “This is not going to work anyway, so why try?

But, try we must. After all, what other options remain? Not many. Through self-help groups and positive programming, we know that the only way out of a situation is through, that there are no shortcuts, and that which will sustain us in that journey through our struggles is hope.

So, what to do? Think of hope as a muscle. Replace the word hope with faith. A word comparable too but not as loaded, not as fraught with tension, as hope. With constant use, your hope muscle will get stronger. With every struggle, and disappointment, its fibers, your fortitude and subsequently your faith will stretch, get tested, and ultimately get stronger.

I leave you with a quote I love that fits this occasion: “Jump and the net will appear.”

I get it, to hope is scary. Please, please, please, hope anyway.

Hold On Past Everything!