I’ve learned in this season of my life that hope is a choice. We choose to believe in better tomorrows. We choose to find the beauty inside the broken pieces because, if left to our own devices, we often spiral into despair. It’s not easy or good or fun. But we move forward anyway.

Years ago, I remember reading a story about how grief can immobilize us. When my dad died, I found that to be true. The mere thought of walking into the grocery store froze me as I sat unable to open my car door.

And so, I asked my daughter to take me home.

When daddy passed away, I found great comfort in the Scriptures; places where I could see God’s healing heart meeting me in my grief.

Another time when I lost my job with no notice, I sat in my chair for weeks – confused, lost, angry and afraid. But I found hope in the future of new possibilities.

But in these past three years, as the waves of loss continue to slam against our family and those I love, I return again and again to a new place and ask: “Where is hope?”

Because in these moments, I’ve realized that hope is hard to see.

This time, I didn’t find the same comfort in the Scriptures. It took time for me to even open the pages of God’s love story and try to find hope and healing inside.

And I think that’s OK.

I think that in those moments, God meets us elsewhere. He walks with us in silent sadness beneath the towering pine trees outside my home. He reveals His love in the laughter of my children; despite the pain they carry. And He chases after me, when I run from every single space where I know I can find His love. He takes my heart and hides it away for safekeeping, knowing that one day it will return to me.

Take my heart Lord, take and seal it. Seal it for thy courts above.”

But I realize today that hope is a choice. I must choose hope:

• Even when I don’t feel like it.
• Even when everything else in the world falls apart.
• Even when prayers don’t get answered.
• Even when cancer wins.
• Even when babies die.
• Even then, I choose hope.

Because without it, I cannot truly survive. I’ll live only a shell of a life – muted, apathetic, gray and blanketed from the joy and light of the world.

So today friend, choose hope. Even if hope looks like simply sitting in bed instead of saving the world.

Today I choose hope.

• Hope that today’s suffering will end.
• Hope that God sees us in our suffering (as His promises say).
• Hope that in all things, His love is felt upon our faces.
• Hope that He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.

And most importantly, I hope that in His time, He will make all things new.

As Jesus said in John 16:24, may the Father give you whatever you ask in His name.

Amen