Hope In Tomorrow

 In the company of words is where my soul finds her release.

It is no small thing to say that 2025 has been one non-stop-roller-coaster of emotional upheaval, unbelievable moments, and sheer disbelief at the state of the nation.

As the days grow shorter and colder, I look out over this in-between space where I live in the Northeast, feel the frigid temperature, and yearn for what we lost.

In my theological training, this would be a lament, a deep grieving for what was lost. Like the Psalmist who declared, "By the Rivers of Babylon - there we sat down, and there we wept when we remembered Zion." (Psalm 137:1)

I have had my moments all year of lament (Psalm 37) and just shaking my head with a, "we told you so!" mantra from the 92% who have always tried to steer the nation toward justice and righteousness.

We sat down.

We turned inward.

We reflected.

We strategized.

I keep seeing all that is continuing to unfold, more and more communities that are not the new Pantone color, Cloud Dancer, are under attack. My why, God, in some ways was answered with it had to be. So many tried to hold up a mirror to the nation to see herself and reckon with her sins.

They did not hear.

So, like so many, we just stopped trying to teach and tell. Why expend that energy on the ones who refuse to listen?

We turned to ourselves to renew and restore, to build and connect.

It is why AfroAmericans, historic Black Americans, have not taken any of the bait thrown out to try to get us on the streets to protest. We have instead been doing teach-ins, meeting up for book chats, connecting on Bsky, forming Black buying clubs, and otherwise, attending to our own spiritual houses in the midst of the chaos we did not create.

So for me, I went to where I find community, my local Black owned bookstore, and we chatted about everything using the book of VP Kamala Harris as a springboard. What we walked out with was that we always knew we were meant to be in conversation with each other, that some of the best teaching can happen when a younger one sits at the feet of an older one and learns (Psalm 78). 

It is also where I hold onto hope.

AfroAmericans have seen this demon of antiBlack racism before. So nothing that transpired even over the weekend surprises us and none of it will trigger or bait us.

We didn't spend MLK Day or Juneteenth at the free national park, anyway. We still gone do us.

We are resilient and taught the world what true resistance to evil looks like.

I don't know all that 2026 brings.

If what they say about 2025 being the Year of the Snake shedding and 2026 being the Year of the Horse galloping, then I am hopeful.

There is always light in the darkness, just like that beautiful moon we had earlier this week, there is always going to be a way forward, if we are brave enough to face it fully.

©2025

Sipping my lavender brown sugar latte made in my MokaPot, putting aside that $10 I would have spent at the coffee shop, to add to a SuSu because I'm not shopping and home is always better anyway.