Hope…like a muscle
Nancy Kennedy
At a recent one-year follow-up doctor’s visit, the first thing my doctor said to me was, “You look like you feel good.”
“Yes, I do feel good!” I said.
She asked what had changed. The last time she saw me, she was putting a scope down my throat and into my stomach.
That was after “my sickness,” as I call it — when I crashed and burned and had all kinds of physical ailments: waking up exhausted, terrible pains after eating anything, no energy. On top of that, I had gained 10 pounds in a year and felt old. I felt heavy — physically, mentally, emotionally.
So I started seeing a bunch of doctors to rule out anything serious.
At one appointment with my primary care doctor, he said all my tests were clear and that “crash and burn” was probably the best diagnosis.
When I told him my legs felt wobbly when I walked and my hips were stiff, he asked what I did for exercise.
I felt tears welling up. “Not much,” I said. Then trying to make a joke, “I’m kind of a lost cause.”
“Just start slow,” he said, kindly. “Start small — ‘use it or lose it.’ And you’re NOT a lost cause.”
I left there actually wanting to exercise. I started with chair yoga for seniors on YouTube and lasted about five minutes into the first 15-minute video.
But I kept going. One day became two. Five minutes became 15.
Eventually, I ditched the chair and found a trainer online who specializes in people like me — unsure, stiff, but willing to try. I added hand weights, low-impact cardio, lots of stretching and plenty of marching in place.
I discovered I love the step bench most of all. I can do it!
Over time, my muscles loosened, my legs stopped wobbling and I lost a few pounds.
And I feel good — some days, even great.
It feels like … hope.
The other day, I heard someone say hope atrophies if ignored, and that small, almost stubborn acts can rebuild it. I’d heard that said about faith, but not hope.
But it makes sense.
During my step bench routine, there’s a move where I raise one knee and hold it for five counts. I do fine raising the left, not so much raising the right.
The trainer says, “It’s all about balance. Engage your core. Keep doing it, and you’ll get better.”
The physical core is your midsection. The hope “core” is God’s promises — His faithfulness, His fatherly care, His Spirit quietly strengthening faith.
Lately, I don’t need naps as often. I can balance a little longer on my left leg. My hips are still stiff, but I can walk without wearing out.
I’m reminded of a line from the poem “Bare Bones” where Ullie-Kaye writes: “Hope is not always soft and lovely. … Hope knows there’s work to be done.”
I keep returning to Romans 5:3-4, which reminds me that suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope — and hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.
Every time I finish my step bench workout, I’m sweaty and breathing hard. But I’m still standing.
Some days I’m steadier than others. Some days my knees still wobble.
But I keep showing up. I keep engaging my core. I keep trusting that what’s being worked — slowly, imperfectly — is getting stronger, body and soul.
And I’m thinking that maybe hope isn’t a feeling.
Maybe it’s simply…practice. Use it or lose it.Contact Nancy Kennedy at 352-564-2927 (leave a message) or email at nkennedy@chronicleonline.com.
