Some moments, it all seems pretty hopeless

Some moments, it all seems pretty hopeless, like there is never going to be a day when I have friends the way that I once did and the way other people seem to be able to so easily. That there never will be a day where I feel like I am living in a community that accepts me as I am and where I truly belong and feel at home. That the world will not sustain itself long enough for my son to reach adulthood and have kids of his own. That my wife will lose her patience with me and give up on me entirely. That there is no one else in the world with whom I can hold a conversation. That I will never see Mom or Hersch again.

All of those hopeless things, and probably many more–maybe lesser ones, like, I will die before ever getting to travel any other place that’s interesting. I will die before finishing seminary and having a pastoral career, or I simply will never get to that place. I will be forgotten by all of the world–even my grandkids, if there are any, will not remember much about me.

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