by Alison Killeen

This morning, my partner Brian and I sat together at our dining table and talked about this new and not-new world we find ourselves in again today. We spoke about the numbness, the shock, and the embarrassment about the shock. We talked about our fear for (all) our child(ren)’s future. We wondered: What Now?

Then Brian said something that landed so strongly for me. He said, “I am looking for credible hope.” Not the next thing to do, the next fight to win, the next explanation why, the next platitude. Not the shallow hope which so many of us rush to in moments like this, to try to stuff down our grief, rage and fear.

But credible hope is something that is solid, and true, and real. It is offering love that is grounded. It has substance, shows the truth. It emerges from relationships that can hold the most vulnerable and rageful and fearful and vengeful parts of us. Credible hope reminds us that this life is both bigger and smaller than this moment - as excruciating as this moment is.

Mary Oliver offers credible hope when she writes, “It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” This breath is still a gift. And this one, too.

Credible hope reminds us to take the time to grieve. There is no right way to feel right now, no right thing to do. There is only connecting with our bodies and doing what we can to nourish them.

And credible hope invites us to rely on community. Times are about to get tough(er) - and especially for those most vulnerable among us. Let us turn toward each other, come alongside each other, love each other, and hold each other close.

So, if it feels right, come to Leaven today - and let’s look for grounded, durable, truthful, hard, and credible hope together. The building will be open, with soft places to sit and be, and grieve, if you need to. Come to whisper, to scream, to light a candle, to eat a meal, to cry, to talk, to be numb. All of it is human. All of it is welcome.