Beware of naysaying, which comes in the form of innocent questions, reminders of unforeseen impediments, and your own nagging, doubtful voice. As it says in the Urban Dictionary, naysayers “make frequent one-way trips to negative town, and constantly emphasize the worst of a situation.”

Naysaying can kill an idea before it’s off the ground—but it can be a catalyst, too, like the reverse psychology you use on a small child, saying, “Don’t brush your teeth!” to get him to brush his teeth. (Tell me I can’t, and I’ll do it in secret, if need be, just to prove I can.)

I’m no fan of the the kind of knee-jerk optimism that negates worry or sadness and can squelch true feeling, but I’ve always been susceptible to naysaying, and maybe that’s why I respond to hope.

On my shelf of hope-against-hope books is Educating Esme by brilliant, giddy, fearless Esme Codell, who wrote it when she was just 24 years old, during her first year as a public school teacher in Chicago. In an early scene she tries to drum up enthusiasm for a Fairy Tale Festival. She presents it to a committee, outlining the fashion show and carnival she envisions, and it’s turned down for being too ambitious.

She concludes: “If you give people an idea these days, they just think you are sharing it with them so they can critique it, play devil's advocate, and so on. It doesn't occur to them that they might help or get enthused or at least have the courtesy to get out of your way.”

I’d like to be the kind of person who does more than get out of the way but often I’ve been the naysayer myself (just ask my son). I can clobber an idea with my worry, doubt and confusion.

And yet it takes surprisingly little effort to be supportive. It’s usually the smallest personal actions that mean the most, and they usually don't cost the giver much.

Years ago I set out to organize an auction at our church, a task I found daunting. I felt completely alone with it at the beginning, unable to inspire any hand-raisers. Then Chris pitched in by contributing art for the invitation, and Pastor Heidi donated a homemade flan, the much-loved dessert of Argentina, her husband’s home country. Each offering was creative and personal, and boosted my faith in the undertaking, showing me how the auction could be more than I imagined.

We can do this for ourselves too. Lately, when I get bogged down with a task, like writing or cleaning my room, I try to imagine I’m someone else, and ask, gently, “What can I do to help?”