Once upon a time there was a
little woman who walked along the dusty field path. She was quite old yet her
steps were light and springy and her smile had the fresh glow of a carefree
girl. She stopped at a cowered figure and looked down. She couldn’t recognize
much.
The being that sat in the dirt on
the path seemed to be almost body-less. She reminded her of a grey flannel
blanket with human shape.
The little woman bent a little
forward and asked: “Who are you?”
Two almost lifeless tired eyes
looked up towards her. “Me? I am the Sadness”, whispered the voice haltingly
and softly, almost too soft to hear.
“Oh, the Sadness!” said the woman
pleased as if she would greet an old friend.
“You know me?” asked the Sadness
mistrusting.
“Of course I know you! You
accompanied me every once in a while over and over again on parts of my path.”
“Yes, but…” said the Sadness
suspiciously. “Why don’t you run away from me? Aren’t you afraid?”
“Why should I run from you, my
dear? You know very well yourself that you catch up with everybody who tries to
get away from you. But, what I wanted to ask you: Why do you look so
discouraged?”
“I am … sad”, replied the grey
figure with broken voice.
The little woman sat down at her
side. “So, you are sad”, she said and nodded with understanding. “Tell me what
bothers you.”
The Sadness sighed deeply. Was
there really someone who would like to listen to her this time? How often did
she wish for that to happen?
“You know”, she started
hesitantly and very astonished, “it’s just that nobody actually likes me. It is
my destiny to visit humans for a while but when I show up they are scared of
me. They are afraid of me and try to avoid me like the plague.”
The Sadness swallowed some tears.
“They invented phrases that they try to ban me with. They say things like:
‘Nonsense, I can’t be sad. Life is always bright and fun.’ and their fake
smiles give them stomach cramps and they have a hard time breathing. They say:
‘Praise is what makes us tough.’ and then they end up with heartache. They say,
‘One just has to put it all together and suck it up!’ and then they feel all
kinds of aches and pains in their shoulders and their backs. They say: ‘Only
weak people cry!’ and the banked up tears almost make their heads burst. Or
they try to numb themselves with alcohol or drugs so that they don’t have to
feel me.”
“Oh yes”, confirmed the old
woman, “I’ve met people like that before.”
The Sadness turned even sadder…
“But all I want is to help humans. When I am very close to them they can face
themselves. I help them build a nest to cuddle up in to take care of their
wounds. Somebody who is sad has very thin skin. Old sorrows surface again like
a bad healed wound and that can hurt a lot. But who is able to face their grief
and sorrow and cries? All the uncried tears can truly make their wounds heal.
People don’t want me to help them though. Instead they put on a flashy smile on
top of their scars. Or they put on a heavy shield of bitterness.”
The Sadness was silent now. Her
crying at first was weak, then it became stronger and finally it was very
desperate.
The little, old woman hugged her,
caressed the shaky bundle and thought to herself how soft and gentle Sadness
felt. “Cry, Sadness, let your tears flow”, she whispered full of love. “Rest so
that you can gather your strength back. From now on you shall not wander all by
yourself. I will join you so that discouragement and despair can’t take over
anymore.”
The Sadness quit crying. She
looked her new companion straight in the eyes: “But, but who are you?”
“Me?” said the old lady with a
smile on her face and then she laughed again like a carefree young girl. “I am
HOPE.”
Author Unknown
