Shortly after my first divorce was final I recall a friend visiting me and I felt so depressed I literally decided, during the conversation, to lay face down on the floor. I just felt I couldn’t take any more, and I stated that I felt “hopeless.”
The friend then argued with me along the lines that because I was still trying and still attempting to figure things out, I couldn’t possibly be “hopeless.” Because, the word “hope” and “less” when put together meant you have less than any hope at all. Even if it is a small amount of hope, they argued, it disqualified me of actually being “hopeless.”
I was just out in my gardens attempting to pull up the last of the tomato plants and whatever fruit can be salvaged (both green and red/yellow ripe tomatoes) and a vehicle pulled in. A woman got out and I immediately noticed her face had been disfigured in a fire (or chemical burn), and she said she was going to go over and look at the stand and that she needed a tomato.
Yes, she wanted a single tomato (she was clear she would only need one), and she returned minutes later, having selected the one she wanted and had (I assume) left payment in the box. My back was turned, resuming my work, and I simply turned and waved to her and the man in the passenger seat as she was getting back into the vehicle.
I thought to myself, I should write a piece called “When Hope Trickles In”, but, I later decided upon this title.
Actually, the other day I was also feeling quite hopeless about a number of things here and was thinking about going ahead and ripping up my gardens for the season. I went outside to get something from my vehicle and there was a man just pulling into the produce stand lot. He was quite elderly and walked with that “old man’s” limp, and as I spoke with him, he would put his hand to his ear and ask me to repeat.
He said he had driven by and noticed green tomatoes and had turned around to come get some. He explained he liked to fry them up (as if I didn’t know this could be done!) and I ended up picking him bigger, fresher green tomatoes. He said he wanted 4-5. We talked about my okra and he told me how he didn’t much care for it unless it was fried. He had wanted to know how much for the tomatoes, and I suggested about $3. I asked if he wanted some okra (I was going to give him some) and he said he would take 4 pieces. I cut him about 9-10 when he said, “that’s enough…it’s just me eating it…”
And he pulled out two more dollars for me.
I’ve heard that supernatural happenings might be natural occurrences that just happen to happen at a certain time which gives us pause. I mean, I was feeling pretty low when I came outside the other day, thinking about stuff here and how I can’t even pick all the wonderful harvest quickly enough to get back my profits. Wondering is it all for naught as I see dollar signs rotting in front of me…
And then, a man stops in for green tomatoes and okra. Specifically, he’s looking for something that is well-loved in the deep south. I told my former Alabama neighbor about it on the phone, and she said “he must have lived down south.”
Hope is a powerful thing, and indeed it seems when we most need it, the “commodity” of the strength, courage, optimism, endurance and purpose that hope generates seems to trickle in.
Just enough that we don’t totally throw up our hands and quit.
Just enough that we get through the bare basics (if even that) of a day.
I’m typing this while eating a cold tomato and cheese with mayo sandwich for dinner (one of my favorites as big tomatoes go) and I see I’m losing daylight out there. Maybe I’ll get a bit more pulled up yet. It seemed worthwhile to pause and reflect here.
We don’t understand God’s ways. And sometimes, we can’t even feel His presence. We don’t know when some woman that stops in for one tomato–giving me enough encouragement to get through the next hours–was the answer to someone’s simple prayer for me.
But what I am reminded of is that we all walk by trust in many things in life, and ultimately we look to God for all things. I think there are combinations of verses/ideas biblically that remind us that hope itself is a gift of God, and to receive from God we must be looking to Him with single-mindedness, walking both in faith and in faithfulness to the little things.
Each of these two times that some amount of hope trickled in, I was doing something seeming small in terms of priority or purpose, yet seemingly needful if I weren’t going to simply give up.
Hope is Fragile, and Hope Can Be Intellectual and Un-Touchable
So in the time it took me to write this, and to break to go back out a finish up with the tomatoes, my fatigue has resumed and the burst of hope plummeted, somewhat, making me feel less energetic to do some of the things I thought I might be reasonably able to tackle yet tonight. I say reasonably, because there is literally too much here for me alone, and unless I can navigate that differently, I will continue to struggle in a number of ways.
So in a sense, hope itself is a very fragile thing.
I was also remembering a few days ago when a close, praying friend sent me a private message to encourage me. She said for some reason when she was thinking about me/praying she recalled some lines from the “Man of La Mancha.” We had a good conversation about this; she was afraid perhaps she had said the wrong thing (maybe because I couldn’t respond right away) but it actually was just what I needed to hear. She also, shortly after sending me the message, received a link from another person with the following video, which also seemed just what I needed to hear.
So with that, I will end with the lyrics to that old tune, and the message about tenacity. I find that when I’m at my low points, as long as I can keep doing the little things, whatever they may be, to move forward rather than withdraw/resign into a standstill or get further behind, I try to do these things.
It is during these times also that we may not even feel and connect in the moment to that which we are thinking; but there is power as well in our intellectual/cognitive abilities to sustain us when our soul feelings are less than.
It can feel futile, as though these things don’t much matter, but any large victory is often simply a string of very small successes and exertions of effort.
Song by Andy Williams
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right without question or pause
To be willing to march into hell for a heavenly cause
And I know if I’ll only be true to this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To fight the unbeatable foe
To reach the unreachable star
__________
I feel like I should total my sales to date from the last three years in eggs/produce, just out of curiosity.
Of course, my investment into this far outweighs the direct sales, leaving loss rather than profit…but…I have also benefited to some degrees in other ways.
2021: $117 (as of 12/31/21)
2022: $876.03 (as of 12/31/22)
2023: $757.60 (as of 9/10/23)
Thank You For Reading
Please Feel Free To Express Your Thoughts Below
