Skip to main content

Hope


 It's been cloudy here a lot lately. Weird temperature fluctuations have me wondering each morning what to wear. There's been lots of rain and not one snowflake all winter. It's quite depressing. But there is a glimmer of hope. The warmer weather today means my walk won't be encumbered by a heavy hat and mittens that I don't know whether to keep on or take off. Hope works that way. 

But lately, I feel like I am clinging on to hope, sometimes it's more like clawing onto it, my fingernails clutching any glimmer of hope. Watching the news, worried about everything, seeing the clouds of smoke over Ohio that some think will just go away, I grasp for whatever lifeline is thrown my way. When I feel this way, I'm reminded that I need to let up a little because what I'm really holding onto is the fear. Part of hope is seeking it, part of hope is praying, and part of it is acting. I can do each of these things and each step gets me closer to realizing what I hope for. I can also accept God's grace which fills me with hope. 

I think the purpose of Lent is that we hold these two things in juxtaposition: fear and hope. We are sad, and we are needy. We fear the unknown, the lack that we feel. With hope, we know that we will be happy again, we know that the trials won't last forever. 

Today I hope you find what you have been hoping for. 

Here is an image from Emily Lex, a wonderful painter out of Seattle, who I follow and who sends these beautiful images for your phone wallpaper. 


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Nesting

This morning I am creating a nest. I am building it from scratch with spare parts that have been left around from another owner. We are vacationing in a house on a lake near Grandfathers, since that currently has no running water. We love it up here. It is a place that is carved in our hearts and our stories.  Since this is a foreign house, I am trying to make it feel like home. We have been here for 2 days and now I see the needs and small fixes I can do to make things more ‘ours’.  I have brewed coffee and put away the dishes from last night. I have placed a small rug by the door to catch our shoes that are caked in pine needles and fallen beech leaves and sand from the beach. I have moved the ottoman away from the chair it belongs to so that we have an extra seat. We have more people than it sits. Charlie made a chair with two pillows and leaned them against the end table. We are all working to build the nest. I am using pillows and blankets which I found in an upstairs clo...
Post a Comment
Read more

Bundling

 My husband accuses me of bundling. Like everything. I won't go down the basement until I have collected a pile of everything that could possibly need to go down. So I'll bring the laundry down to the kitchen and then I'll start bundling. The old front door wreath goes on top of the laundry, The drill I used in the garden yesterday - on top. The Fourth of July banner on top of that. I can amass quite a pile. The same goes when I'm out doing errands. I have a doctor's appointment in Mt. Laurel? Hmm. I can stop at the Home Sense store, the big Dollar Tree, the Produce Junction, the Michaels, and the Container Store. All on my way home! I like bundling. Not just because it saves trips, which equates to gas, but it also saves my energy. If I separated those trips it would be hours or even days of travel. I don't have time for that. When I can I want to tie everything together and wrap it up. With a pretty bow.  Bundling was an act of desperation back when the kids w...
Post a Comment
Read more

What Is Grief?

 What is grief? It is standing in the shower and  you are suddenly crying and then you are sobbing. And you barely thought about it in the two days since you heard  your Uncle Rich passed. You thought about your dad and your cousins and your aunt and how sad they must be and you checked in on your dad. "I'm so so sorry." And you went to work and you did what you had to do. And now you are ready for another day and you are thinking of all the things and then you are crying and you are little again and vulnerable  and your heart hurts. And you remember everyone. Medford Lakes and a swimming pool and laughing so hard  and dancing around a Christmas tree and fireworks by the lake at night. And you can see his face and all their faces smiling Aunts and uncles and cousins and brothers who aren't here. And you remember his voice, deep and laughing, and you remember his kindness and his advice. "Are you taking vitamin C, Joannie?" You see all their faces and you mis...
6 comments
Read more