I wonder, are you waiting with hope, or just waiting for your Covid-19 vaccine? Is the talk of variants and supply problems getting you worried?

This question is prompted by a line of a song I heard in church service I listened to: "bring hope to every task you do." What would it mean to imbue every action with hope? What happens when we act without hope? And I suspect that the nature of the hope we bring also affects the directionality of the action.

I try not to use words like "directionality." They seem superficially erudite. But in this case, I want to suggest that actions have in them a sense of direction beyond the specific accomplishment they are intended to fulfill. Actions have intention.

Back to waiting for the Covid-19 shot. Some of us are just waiting our turn so that we can get back to normal. The "directionality" of this kind of waiting, I would argue, is despair.

Why? First, because no matter who promises we will all have the shot by September, it feels like an empty promise every time the supply chain problems are talked about.

Second, as the variants take hold--and now there are three dangerous ones--we wonder if one vaccine will ever actually protect us all. What if we have to get a new shot every year? That won't feel like normal. If normal is not coming back, waiting for it is futile. Hence, despair.

The hope that fuels my waiting is specific. I want my husband to get it because he is 85 with underlying health issues. I want him safe. I want to get it, so that I can have friends in for tea. I want to be able to go into a restaurant, or at least sit on a patio. I want servers to get back to work. I want businesses to open and associates to get called back from lay-offs. I am waiting with the hope that we can expand our social connections, rebuild our social structures.

But actions in the present also need to be imbued with hope. I've been searching for events to be part of virtually this winter and spring. I hope to participate in writing events across our country, across North America. I've applied to take part in on-line events that I would not be able to travel to in an ordinary year. I'll sign up for on-line readings and workshops that I could not usually attend. I plan to feed my imagination and build knowledge and skills in ways that I could not if they were not on-line.

This matters. Defining my hope for now helps me see my hope for the shape of the new normal. Back in the spring, at the end of a conversation sharing ideas and best practices, the leader said that she hoped we'd meet in person soon. My response: "I hope you will always offer an online option for events like this." Normally, participation in that conversation would require a 2 1/2 hour drive each way. Not possible. Remote participation was possible. I want us to imagine new ways of connecting and building. (Though I also want to acknowledge that people who do not have good internet need in person gatherings and are really disconnected during this time.)

Enough Covid. Every action has a specific accomplishment intended and a longer goal. I sweep the house to keep it clean and to not use hydro when I don't have to, i.e. vacuuming. I read to fill time, to inspire my imagination, and I am choosing diverse authors so that I gain broader perspectives on the world. I take walks to get out of the house, to get exercise, and to see what is going on in the neighbourhood -- the human and the natural neighbourhoods.

A person can take a walk just to take a walk. If we know why we are walking, what we hope for, we shape the walk--increase the pace for more exercise; shift the places we go so we see new things; vary the companions so that we make more connections.

Not all hopes are good for us or good for the world. It matters what we choose to hope for. But bringing healthy hope to everything we do will ensure that we head for something we care about, embody an intention that matters.

Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway