This past weekend, I had several instances that gave me newfound insight as to what having hope truly means.
To me, hope is the ability to continue to move forward with joy, or with the knowledge that there will be joy, despite current pain and fear and the unknown.
Jer and I were at a beautiful wedding this weekend, however the groom's father had recently died. In light of the recent death in my own family, I found myself carefully watching the groom's mother. I felt the pain that she must have felt, not having her husband with her for such a beautiful occasion. There were times that she had tears. However, she also danced, laughed, talked to friends and family, and smiled often. How did she move forward on that day without her life partner? She must have hope that pain will lessen, and joy will return.
This Sunday, being Father's Day, was emotional for my dad. He is no longer the father of three. He is a father of two girls. We sang praise songs in church, opened presents, played a great game of tennis, grilled out, and toasted the future. My dad is grieving, but he could rejoice in being a father because he has hope of recovering from the trauma of losing a son.
Jeremiah and I went out on Friday to celebrate his new job. He knew for many, many months that his previous position was no longer a good fit for him. He woke up every day, went to work, smiled and made jokes with guys in the office, and faithfully looked for something better. It was often very discouraging for him, and frustrating. He had hope and faith that God would open the right door for him at the right time. He did, and Jer is so excited and ready for this change in his career.
Things are changing in my family. I see us moving forward in many ways. I see prayers being answered and looking towards the future. If I let myself, that can feel very painful to do without Matt. It can also feel very scary. For the first time in my life, I have such a multitude of unknowns that they outweigh anything that is certain. I don't even really recognize my life anymore.
This is where my hope comes in. True, circumstances are far different than I ever imagined them to be. Also true is that I have no idea what will happen in the coming days, weeks, months...etc. Yet, when I open my eyes each morning, along with anxiousness, fear, and sadness, I also feel a little excitement. How is it possible to look forward to an unknown, or to feel joy and excitement for the future intermixed with hurt? Hope.
I still have not yet lost the ability to know that it will get better, this is God's plan for my life, and that joy and healing will come. Interspersed with the devastation and grief of death, the fear of infertility, and the anxiousness of the unknown is that little word hope, the warmth of the summer, a starry night, a cardinal on my bird feeder, the sound of laughter, a slow dance at a wedding, a crowded pool, the hot tennis court, a quiet Monday morning with a cup of coffee....the little things in life that remind us that there is joy and happiness despite pain, and that also encourage us to keep hope..even if sometimes it is only a little tiny glimmer, barely lighting the darkness.
Our first family picture without Matt. God is moving us forward.
