My topic this year is “Finding Hope in Unmet Expectations” because that’s what my book is about as well. On Fridays, I will write you a poem. Every day in October, I will write a short non-fiction essay or vignette for you. Each day has a different word prompt. I hope you enjoy.
Today’s word prompt is HOPE.
Hope – An Invitation
I showed up to the home of a woman I had never met. Her eyes and smile greeted me at the gate of her apartment complex, and she helped me upstairs with my heavy, battered luggage. Her immediate openness and compassion made me feel welcome and at ease.
This is loving our neighbor well. Her dark, elegant indigenous hair gathered over her right, bare brown shoulder. I wanted to know her story. Sharing our story with our neighbor is sacred work.
We sat together, in communion, surrounded by a warm and tranquil light. The community pool light glistened off the water below her balcony as it peered into the sliding door near where we sat. We each pulled from deep within us to share our stories.
We shared our thoughts on theology, spirit, poetics, marginalized bodies, colonialism, and helping one another out. We stayed up until our bodies grew weary and craved rest. Three hours later I lay my head on the couch pillows and fell asleep.
Hope – A Connection
I ended up at Edyka’s place because of our mutual poet friend, Ire’ne. When I expressed I didn’t have a place to stay for the conference I’m attending this week, Ire’ne connected me with Edyka. In the poetry community, we look out for each other and are always trying to help a sister up.
I think she knew what she was doing when she connected us. I would have never expected to meet the daughter of a Latina theologian. I have been on a quest to meet women of the likes of Ada Maria Isasi-Díaz and her work of Mujerista theology. I would have never thought that I would connect with a soul that spoke so much to mine.
Hope – An Unexpected Welcome
I never expected to not have a place to stay for the conference, but God worked that out. He’s always looking out. And I gained a friend, a comrade, a sister, in the process.
Hope looks like crashing on someone’s couch who welcomes you with open arms into her beautiful home.
Hope looks like sharing sacred stories barefoot, on a couch, in an intimate living room, surrounded by light.
Hope looks like an unexpected welcome.
Meet my new sister, Edyka Chilomé.
Chilomé is the Nahuatl term that describes the point at which the corn is about to bloom.