This morning I’m having trouble concentrating. Maybe it’s the sunshine, my view of which the cubicle walls are cruelly obstructing. Maybe it’s the weekend full of good things that I didn’t want to see end. Maybe it’s the fact that I just noticed the bat is missing from the Ryan Braun bobblehead that stands next to my monitor… … Okay, found Ryan’s bat. Anyway, whatever the combination of causes, I am distracted today. I am trying to decide what could help. A mind-clearing walk would probably do the trick, especially if that walk took me to the adoration chapel for some time in prayer.
I’m wrestling with hopefulness. Optimism comes naturally to me, 92% of the time, but it also has a history of disappointing me. The call to be hopeful, as a Christian, is always resonating in my heart, compelling me to see the possibility in things, the potential and the silver lining. I can feel it pulling at me again. The great hope of eternal life won for me by Christ (the hope that doesn’t disappoint) spills over into littler hopes. But are there times that prudence or wisdom would have me curb the hopefulness, temper the optimism? The long fall when smaller hopes disappoint can really bruise.