When I am lost, and cant seem to find myself among many other things, I close my eyes, and try to envision my meaning of Hope. Or my picture of Hope. The one and only thing that comes to my mind, oddly enough, is a lighthouse, in the middle of nowhere. Though I have never actually seen a real lighthouse, in my life, I have always wanted to, but never given the opportunity. Either way, this is what Hope has imprinted in my mind.
Often, at times, I feel like this small, dainty, sail boat out on the water... On some days the water is quiet, calm, still, and simply beautiful. I couldn't ask for a better day. Then, just like the flipside of a coin, there are those days where the waters are so bad, it engulfs my boat and sails, terrorizing them. My boat, somehow manages its way through with holes and breakage all along the body. In some instances, it sinks due to the overwhelming and over powering rage of the waters. And yet, somehow, it still manages to find its way back on top of the water in days to come, still in one piece, with some chips and dings missing. The raging storms have twisted and tormented my boat, and terrorized my sails, with rips and tears, and yet, they still catch the wind, and ride the waters.
In the darkest storms, I can no longer see. I am blinded by the night, with the rain, and wind as well. I search for the light tirelessly, on to turn up empty handed. The more I search, the farther it actually turns out to be. I feel that I may not make it through the night, though I have a flicker of a fire that is telling me I can. With the discouraging storms barrelling towards me, what choice do I have other than to lay down, protect myself and just take the brutal beating of the storm. I hear the thunder rolling on, and the lightning clapping.. The winds are cracking the wood of my protection, and causing the water to seap in. I feel the water about my cheeks and eyes... So I clench my eyes shut, and wait...
Like any ambitious captain, some choices that I make on the water, aren't the best. I am told by my inner conscious, do not set sail on this water in this direction, for there is a storm on the rise. Yet, I push that voice back down inside me, muffling its sound. I set sail. For what reason do I have to set myself up for disaster, and yet I push it and make it that way? I dont have one. There isn't one. I dont see what I am doing until I feel the needles of the freezing water, piercing my skin, as I am looking around at the pieces of my boat floating around, and I finally ask myself,... "Why?"
Taking the blame, for it is mine. I try to rebuild what I have wrecked, though it continuously falls apart. With each nail that I drive into the wood, the cracks and splits grow bigger and bigger separating one part of wood from the other. I take the blame, because I brought it upon myself, and I try to get back to rebuilding and each element around me is saying otherwise, and that I can't.
Hoping for the best, I keep on. My boat, I have rebuilt with my own two hands over and over again, with each storm I learn something more, and sometimes, something is even taken from me. Through it all, I set out for the water once again. Each characteristic of the waters, takes its own toll on me and my small sailboat. With the worst storm I would ever bear on the horizon, I prepare, or try to, for the unexpected. With the worst in mind, the worst happens, and much more. I no longer have the strength, or the knowledge on what to do. Hopelessly, I fall to my knees, almost giving up. I cry, I scream, I plead, I look for something... To find nothing.
Just when I would have let the storm take me under for good, I catch a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, a far off light. Where is it coming from? Is it even real? Questions I asked myself over and over before I just simply sailed on faith, and hope, that it was real, and it was the light that I needed to lead me. The light of the lighthouse.
The stronger I sailed on my hope and my faith, the brighter the light got, and the less of a storm it became. Believing in only a glimpse of what could be imaginary, is making this better, making my boat stronger against the storm. I finally take one last long look, and there is stood, proud and bright.
A small dainty lighthouse.
Original Publish Date: 4/08/09
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