The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
I was filling out a questionnaire the other day as a new coaching client, and one of the questions asked me to elaborate on where I am feeling hopeful these days. I pushed the keyboard away and looked off into the distance and pondered the question. What does it mean to “feel hopeful”? I am not feeling hopeful. When I consider our political discourse, climate change, pervasive racism, not to mention personal challenges feeling hopeful is difficult if not downright Pollyanna for me right now. But I don’t think I am without hope.
Sitting in a hotel room this week, I turned on the TV and was watching the The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug. I remember watching this series 10+ years ago and thinking that while the storyline was good, it was just battle after battle, obstacle after obstacle, but after reading some of MaryAnn McKibben Dana’s book, Hope: A Users Manual (available through your local bookstore), I am thinking that these characters are embodying what hope means. She writes, “Hope is wrapped up in what we make real. Hope isn’t what we think. Hope isn’t what we feel. Hope isn’t even what we imagine is possible. Hope is what we do in the face of suffering, pain, and injustice. Hope is what we do in the face of depression’s dull weight or grief’s harsh sting. Hope is what we do” (p. 39).
In The Hobbit series hope is an active lived quest moving forward not knowing the outcome (and against grave challenges). While I don’t feel particularly hopeful, I can commit my energy to a lived active kind of hope that engages life’s challenges and injustices if I don’t feel like I have to succeed, and if I can do it the company of others. I think this kind of hope is a “we” thing. We need traveling companions who can borrow and lend courage to one another.
I am truly grateful for my traveling companions at FaithX and for those in the Office of Church Planting and Redevelopment of the Episcopal Church. I feel like we resource people with tools for this courageous journey of hope. At FaithX, Mary Frances, Ken Howard, and I provide actual maps to help you navigate the landscapes of systemic racism, the local impact of climate change, and other local demographic challenges unique to your community, and we stand ready to accompany you in the direction you feel called to pursue.
Roads go ever ever on,
Over rock and under tree,
By caves where never sun has shone,
By streams that never find the sea;
Over snow by winter sown,
And through the merry flowers of June,
Over grass and over stone,
And under mountains in the moon.
Roads go ever ever on,
Under cloud and under star.
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen,
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green,
And trees and hills they long have known.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone.
Let others follow, if they can!
Let them a journey new begin.
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien
