I'm back.

Hope… everyone seems to be grasping for it these days, desperately searching for it through life’s unanswered questions and hardships. We look to a lot of things to meet needs and fill the ache and the holes in our souls, coming up empty again only a little while later.

It’s been over six months since my beloved B went to be with Jesus, and I’ve done plenty of my own aching and searching. And every time I’ve been at my absolute lowest, laden with grief and consumed by tears and unanswered questions, my Jesus has met me there… and I’ve seen it for myself. Hope. That promise that He has won and death has been overcome through His victory on the cross, and that He truly does make beauty from ashes in His timing. The extent of it all I may never fully know until I reach Heaven myself, with a new body and perspective and God’s Son standing before me, wiping away my every tear with His nail pierced hands and reminding me that it was His guidance and love for me that brought me through the hard.

But some glimpses of it, I see every day – through children with such resilience that they can giggle and act out plays and play jokes on each other when the pain of losing their father still runs so deep. Through family and friends who care and bring meals and offer to babysit and make the load a little lighter when I need it most.  Through Starbucks gift cards sent through the mail just when I need a little "pick me up". Through rainbows and sunsets and walks on the beach.  Through early morning and late night quiet when I open the Scriptures and see His love for me, and read story after story of Bible characters who faced their own hard, whom we admire today as we see themes of hope woven throughout their lives.

 

And so, this hope is like manna – that every day “what is it?” mystery of sustenance that the Israelites received long ago during their wilderness period. His grace and strength gets me through each day, usually with just enough for that given day. And when I lay my head on my pillow at night, I can be convinced that it will be there for tomorrow. Just enough for each day, I remember. I don’t have to know how to handle more than He gives me for that certain day, and when I try to take on too much, it all goes awry anyway. Like rotten manna.

I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I know Who holds tomorrow. And I am convinced that His hope IS the anchor for my soul. And so I pray that moving forward, this little blog, as a window into my thoughts and our lives, would be a place of seeing the hope that only He can give when the dark of night is faced and the beauty of the morning sunrise is still yet to behold. There is hope to be found, and unexpected joy, even if it’s in little glimpses as we wait for God to fulfill His promise and make beauty from these ashes. Our pain is real and our story is messy. But I know the Author of hope and the Creator of beauty, and I’m clinging to Him for both as we continue to trudge forward.