Hope is expectation, the belief that something is going to happen – something good, right, and true. But what happens when you’re running low on hope and everything flies in direct opposition to what you expect? This can be soul wearying for me. So today I’m sharing with you my reality and my fight.
I’ve been told on different occasions that I am tenacious and that I don’t give up. I’ve heard people say I have a different outlook that seems to propel me forward rather than getting stuck in the yuck of life. Well, those things are true, but what those people cannot see is my own fight to hold faith and believe that good will come even when all hell is breaking loose. In private, quiet places I share my doubts, misgivings, mishaps, disbelief, and faltering. I am imperfect. I don’t always have it together. Do any of us?
The holding on to hope is what matters to me. I can’t let it out of my grasp. I can’t let darkness win the day. I’m not saying I ignore what is going on around or in me, but I try not to let it color my perspective. So many things that happen to us are fleeting. In the grand scheme of things, I have found that getting too bent out of shape about something not happening as I think it should takes up so much mental space and energy that I miss the good that still happens. I am in one of those seasons now. Work, family, friends, dreams all falling apart or into place. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say it’s rough in this league.
Things look pretty horrible from my vantage point, and maybe that’s because too many wheels are turning in too many place. I can’t keep up. Some of those things are falling into place while others are falling apart. At first glance, I thought there would be no way I would make it or that things would work out. However, I am realizing as I acknowledge what I feel and seek to get to the root of the issue, things are not as bad as they seem. Perhaps the thing that is falling apart must fall apart in order for me to grow. It reminds me how a seed dies before it gives way to new life. So it seems to be with life. Hope is reborn everyday we wake with breath in our lungs.
I look at life and think, “it’s not over. God is about to breakthrough and turn this mess around. He’ll speak peace over my soul, and lead me through the storm.” It may not happen on my time, but I hold on to this hope that a thread of redemption weaves a beautiful tapestry. While I can only see its backside of knots, strings, and incomprehensible messiness, I know that on the other side is a picture of beauty made from the brokenness.
So today, I hold on to hope. It’s an anchor for my soul. I get real and honest with God and trusted friends. I don’t fight alone. This much I believe: darkness cannot win this day when I move myself forward with the expectation that life will turn around for good. Hope gives me wings, steadies my knees, and enables me to withstand the storm.