The Thing About Hope

This morning I am thinking about hope.  In my life, I have found that hope is like a familiar friend who coaxes or pushes me beyond my fear to believe and do things that I otherwise would not.  Many times I have been blessed to be a witness, as that which seemed highly unlikely became reality.  And hope was there, as though celebrating with me, saying, “See?  I told you so.”  There have also been times when I was disappointed because of dreams and desires deferred.  Still, hope was there, pointing out all that I had learned and the ways I had grown while daring to pursue the “impossible.”  That’s one thing about hope.  It always draws my focus to the positive and the potential.  Lately hope seems to be particularly excited and active.  It has been speaking to me through dreams and through songs.  It has been alerting me that the time has come to move out from a season of deep healing into a new level of grace, favor, and blessings.  That’s another thing about hope.  It always calls me forward…always just in the nick of time, before safe turns into stuck.  Today, hope is speaking to me about the manifestation of miracles.  It is agreeing with me as I pray for family and friends, and even as I lift up my own personal petitions.  It is reminding me of the steadfast, irrefutable promises I can claim by faith.  That’s the thing about hope.  It is inextricably tied to my almighty, ever faithful, merciful, loving God.  Just as He is strong, unfailing, and eternal, so is my hope.  Amen.      

The Choice To Be Happy

This morning I am thinking about a humorous exchange I had with my oldest nephew when he was about eight years old.  I used to pick him up from school and take care of him until my sister got off from work.  The routine was that he and my daughter, Ari, would come into the house, get a snack, and watch a bit of TV before starting homework.  I would head to my bedroom for a few moments of quiet.  On one particular day, I was changing from my work clothes into something more comfortable.  It didn’t occur to me to close the bedroom door while I changed.  It had never mattered, at least not until that day.  I looked up and was startled to find my nephew curiously gazing at me in my “unclad” state.  Without saying a word, he just turned and went back into the living room.  I quickly got dressed wondering what kind of trauma I had imposed on the child and how I would explain it to his mother.  I was in the kitchen getting a head start on  dinner, when my nephew came in and stood quietly.  Not quite sure how to address the earlier incident, I said, “I’m sorry you saw me like that.  Were you embarrassed?”  He shook his head, “No.”  I then asked, “Were you ashamed?”  Again, he shook his head, “No.”  Sensing that he really was okay, I went about what I was doing.  After a few moments, he broke the silence with, “Auntie, you didn’t say ‘happy!’”  I had tried to impose my own thoughts and feelings about the situation onto him, but he had a very different perspective.  I realize that life is often like this for me.  Things happen…sometimes quite unexpectedly.  And the conventional wisdom of the world often tries to suggest, or even dictate, how I should feel about it—stressed, resentful, angry, fearful, sad, hopeless, and so on.  But, just like my nephew, I can choose to embrace a positive perception instead.  When I find myself being assaulted by thoughts of doubt and discouragement, I can reject those negative messages.  I can speak right back to my circumstances, in spite of what they suggest, and say, “No thanks.  I choose ‘happy.’”          

Take Time

I am thinking about the last time I saw my dad.  It was December, just before the winter break during my sophomore year of college.  He had called me earlier that day to ask how things were going with my final exams and a term paper that I was writing.  Something in my words or my tone (or maybe both) must have signaled to him that I was stressed and needed a break because, in about an hour, he was knocking on the door of my dorm.  “Come on.  I’m going fishing,” he beckoned.  I thought about how much I had to do, and I said, “No.  I need to work.”  Seemingly undaunted, he just said, “Okay,” and off he went…to fish from the seawall outside the window of my dorm…right where I could see him.  After he placed his tackle box on the ground, he turned to look at me, smiling and waving.  I remember the overwhelming love and appreciation I felt for him at that moment!  I got up from my chair, headed outside, and walked out across the field to join him.  I sat on the wall with my legs dangling over, and we talked and laughed for hours while he fished.  It is a memory I will always hold as precious in my heart.

I can still vividly recall the shock and sense of devastation I felt when, just a few days later, I was given the news that he had passed away suddenly, unexpectedly.   In the days, weeks, and months following his death, I cannot count the number of times I asked myself, “What if I hadn’t taken the time to go out and sit with him that day?”  Even in the midst of overwhelming heartbreak, I derived some measure of comfort and peace from at least being on the good side of “what if.” If there’s one thing I have learned over the years, it is that I am empowered to determine on which side of “what if” I will be if a treasured relationship ends, for whatever reason.  I have the choice to show my genuine thankfulness and appreciation for the people in my life who truly matter.  So, I no longer use the cop-out that I “wasn’t able to make time.”  Of course I can’t make time.  Only God can do that.  But, what I can do…what I will do…is take time for those who mean so much in my life.  Be it to laugh or learn, to shop or share, to encourage or embrace, to pray or play—for those I love, I will always take time.      

My Love Story

This morning I am thinking about my love story.  It’s the one I imagine I’ll write someday soon and share with my grandchildren as they grow older.  I know that my love story won’t begin with the traditional “once upon a time.”  Instead, it might start with “more than once” or “quite a few times.”  Then I’ll get right to the good part where I will recount being a young woman who possessed a strong yearning to fall in love.  I’ll tell how much I wanted to experience what I had observed and remembered of my parents’ marriage relationship—laughing, talking, cuddling, and doing thoughtful little things for each other.  I’ll share how my desire to find that kind of love was, as the old saying goes, like money burning a hole in my pocket.  Except the burning wasn’t exactly in my pocket, and it wasn’t exactly money that I too quickly gave away.  (This is one part I’ll have to wait until my grandchildren are older to share.)  After the good part of the story, I’ll get to a better part.  This is when I came to understand that the kind of love God had imparted to me was a special gift.  Since I didn’t have a word adequate to capture its tenacity, sincerity, depth, and purity, I started calling it “big love.”  I got the revelation that this love was a priceless treasure, which was to be preserved and reserved for a wonderful man with the capacity to both receive and reciprocate.  And this wonderful man would find me in God’s timing.  Here is where I’ll tell about a blissful—though lengthy—season of peace and contentment in waiting and trust.  But then, that’s when I’ll get to the sad part of the story.  That’s where I’ll express the heartbreak I felt after I prematurely unleashed “big love” on a special friend because I so hoped (and believed) that he might be my wonderful man.  A blissful season of waiting abruptly turned to one of worrying and wondering if, maybe, I’d missed my chance.  However, this leads to the best part of the story.  This is when I’ll describe my wonderful man and how God helped him to find me.  I’ll tell about how we grew in respect, friendship, and affection for one another.  I’ll convey how our “big love” for each other continually produces joy, peace, wholeness, strength, and countless other blessings in our lives, as well as in the lives of our family and friends.  Without a doubt, a bold declaration of God’s mercy, faithfulness, and goodness will be the recurring themes throughout my love story.                                  

This Time

This morning I am thinking about something I overheard in the grocery store parking lot the other day.  A car pulled into the space to the left of me, and an elderly gentleman who was driving exited, ever so slowly.  At the same time, two young children…perhaps a brother and sister…bounded out of the back seat from the passenger side.  The girl spoke to the boy firmly, but almost in a whisper, suggesting that she didn’t want the driver to hear her: “Now, this time let’s be good.  We don’t want to be bad kids forever!”  I smiled to myself, trying to imagine what in the world those two had done and what might have brought them to this mindset of remorse and resolution.  Regardless of whatever had gone on earlier, I didn’t hear the man say, “Okay, that’s it!  The two of you are staying in the car this time.”  Instead, his disposition toward them remained patient and kind.  He was giving them another chance to be good.  Perhaps he knew they would that time.  In any case, it felt as though the little girl’s words “this time” stood out to me for a reason.  Although I had forgotten about the encounter, I find that her words have returned to me today, speaking of fresh opportunity and the power of grace.  It occurs to me that I have actually uttered those words quite a bit in my prayers of late.  “Lord, this time I want to trust You without fear.  This time I really want to acknowledge You in all my ways.  This time I don’t want to become distracted or discouraged by what others say and do.  This time I want to walk by faith, not by sight.  This time I don’t want to give up.  This time I want to see the manifestation of Your promise.”  In my case, I suppose I could add, “I don’t want to be a School of Faith dropout forever!”  But, regardless of how many times and in how many ways I have blown it before, I am so grateful that today…this day…God has given me another chance to be good.  He has given me a fresh, new opportunity to trust Him and take Him at His Word.  I believe He knows I will this time. 

The Dream

This morning I am thinking about an intriguing dream I had.  At the start of the dream, I was in a room that seemed rather small.  At the very top of one wall, there was a window with an opening through which those of us in the room could see the bright, clear blue sky above.  Although I’m not sure why, others in the room were in agreement, encouraging me that I could and should go through the window.  I expressed my doubt and reluctance with, “I can’t.”  One of the people in the room said, “You did it before,” to which I replied, “Yes, but I was younger and stronger then.”  Still, their urging was incessant and, before I knew it, I had somehow reached high enough to grab hold of the ledge of the window.  In one seemingly seamless motion, I pulled myself up and used my legs to catapult myself out of the room completely.  I looked back and could not imagine how in the world I had done that!  Upon waking, I was filled with a sense of great wonder.  I began to pray about what the dream meant.  Although the answer to that is not yet altogether certain, the dream definitely has me reflecting on my faith.  I am (and have been) in a place of waiting.  I am waiting for restoration and revelation.  I am waiting for the manifestation of answers to prayer.  Truth be known, this place of waiting can feel a lot like a prison to which I have been consigned indefinitely, like a place that I would do well to “just get used to.”  The subtle seduction of doubt is a constant threat here.  But God’s Word has reached me, reminding me of His unending faithfulness and how He has brought me out so many times before.  Perhaps the dream represents how His Word is exhorting me to apply my faith until that which seems impossible becomes a glorious testimony.  Perhaps the dream is to encourage me that it is time to emerge from this place of waiting into the fulfillment of precious promises, according to my faith.  I hope so.