This past Monday, a young man came to see me at Armstrong. He was referred to me and my department in the College of Health Professions because he had been essentially kicked out of the professional health care program in which he was enrolled, and he was looking for a new major. He was simply told that he wasn’t cut out for that job.

This poor kid looked so depressed. He would barely look me in the eyes. His demeanor was one part embarrassment and two parts “life as I knew it is over.” So, we talked.

I will keep the specifics generic in case he or his family read the Herald. Suffice it to say that being in and graduating from his former degree program has been his life’s ambition. It’s all he’s ever wanted to do, and what he has prepared himself for since high school. In fact, to some degree it has become part of his self-identity.

Now, I am all for being realistic with oneself, but before engaging a discussion in how this young man could move on with his life and academic career, I asked him more about the passion he has for the field. He began to explain what drew him to health care and why he wanted to be in that specific field as a caregiver.

“Well,” I explained, “there are a lot of ways you can be involved in that field, but maybe in a slightly different way.” I told him about other health care jobs in that area that would allow him to be a clinician and care for patients in the same environment. It would not be easy, but he could do it.

“I never thought about that!” he remarked, his countenance suddenly changing. “Do you really think I could do that?”

I looked him square in the eyes and said, “You’re a bright guy. Of course you can. In fact, it looks perfect for you.”

Game-changer. From that moment on, the clouds disappeared and his life, from his vantage point, immediately took on a different outlook. We began to talk about how he could get there — what experiences he needs, what courses he should take, and so on.

But what was so interesting was how, at this point, I seemed to be speaking with a different person. His face was now bright, and his demeanor energetic and excited. I noticed he was also looking me in the eyes.

The young man has a new plan, a new future, and most importantly, newfound confidence. And it really took very little from me.

Here is the truth of which I was reminded after that meeting: Hope is an incredibly powerful force. And giving someone hope is akin to giving them life; it is a kind of gift we give. Likewise, having hope taken away from you is similar to experiencing a kind of death.

We all need hope. We may need the hope of finding a spouse, the hope of finding the right job, the hope of having children, or the hope of a happy retirement. Hope is powerful, and the ability to give it or take it away is in our hands.

Yes, giving someone hope is a kind of gift we give. God, please help me never to forget that.