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In the chilled beginnings of spring, I planted lilies. Bulbs tucked snuggly into the dirt to rest, prepare, grow. “Soon”, I whispered.
I’ll be honest; I can be overly optimistic and annoyingly hopeful. I try to look on the bright side of things, almost unwilling to accept the obvious on the off chance that the TV will decide to allow me the ad-free experience, or the rain will hold off for the soccer game as dark clouds build. I’m one to always try to look for the best in people. In my own best moments, I’d like to tell you that all I dream of will one day be.
Nothing. And then, life: little sprouts breaking new ground, green leaves unfurling. Buds pushing their way towards the sunshine. In expectation, I watched over them. I watched them grow.
Sometimes, hope comes easily.
Except for the doubting days. And there are a lot of them. These are the days where everything feels like the worst sort of fairytale - the kind with the ending you just don't want, and now you're scared that everyone you've ever loved hates you, and you have this growing, sinking feeling that you're just not enough, after all. Dreams become idealistic and silly and just plain hard.
Hope feels far away sometimes.
Silently, they stretched upward. There were so many days I thought my flowers would burst into bloom, but they stayed hidden, tucked away and waiting.
In this world, so often we like to sideline hope, and dwell instead on the absence of hope rather than the presence of it.
But hope deserves a chance.
Sometimes hope feels like wishful thinking, or confident expectation, other times it's a deeper sense of the promise of all that God has done and will do. At the heart of it all is our most perfect hope - in our God and His way-making, goodness-working, ever-faithful love. It is through Him that all hope flows. This is the hope we hold on to. Yes, there is so much darkness, but the light shines on all that’s true, and pushes back against the night.
My heart knows hurt and doubt, and anxiety, and fear, and helplessness, just like yours. Sometimes it can feel easier to not hope, just in case it doesn't work out. People will let you down. Things don't always go to plan. Some days are just hard. Years, even.
Let us hope anyway.
At night, I dreamed of the gentle blooms.
Hope even when it doesn't make sense. It won’t always make sense. It's no wonder that faith, hope, and love go hand in hand. Each one of them seems to require the other to complete itself: True hope is nothing without faith and love. Love is the heartbeat in all we do and all we are, and real love always hopes. Faith is at the center of all hope, and it is through faith that we rest in our deepest, truest hope for the New Creation to come.
Then, one morning, I walked outside and there it was: My first flower. Six creamy white petals dotted with hazel, full and radiant and perfect, like it had always been waiting for me.
I'm learning that hope is both something you look for and something you’re given. God is with us, and hope abounds. But that doesn't mean it will always be easy to see. I’m thinking that hope has a lot to do with trusting what God is doing in our world and in each of us, and looking for signs that point to that truth along the way.
Hope will surprise you.
Now I’ve seen hope push through the earth and be born in blooms, and I know it to be true: our God dreams with us. Hope is everywhere we have the eyes to see, and the faith to trust.
God chooses each of us and calls us into the story He writes over all creation -- a love story abounding with hope. May we look this hope deep in the eyes, and delight in all God is doing.
Hope is alive.
With love (hope and faith),
Eliana
love this!