“We do not want to merely “see” beauty–though, God knows, even that is bounty enough. We want something else which can hardly be put into words–to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it.” -CS Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Hope. It’s a word I’ve thought of much lately. It’s a word that sometimes just feels like only a word. Recently, I’ve even stared it in the face, and dared it to approach me.
Hope for good tomorrow. Hope for new tomorrow. Hope for only laughter, dancing, and maybe my disillusionment to disappear like a magical pouf in the wind….. maybe tomorrow.
I dare you to come near me, Hope. I’ve sneered at it. Leave me be in my pain.
Then I see tragedies everywhere. I see beautiful, talented people being robbed of their life due to addictions that are relentless. I hear the sobs of those hurting with decisions that seem impossible to make. I see people judging one another harshly, and joking about things that are such painful subjects…. but we don’t understand… we don’t know how to cope…. so we laugh at one another. We laugh because we don’t understand. We judge, because deep down we struggle to make sure the world keeps seeing our shiney face. We don’t listen to each other — we instead decide how we can fix each other. And all our little petals in our flower closes in like it’s night. We dare not expose our true selves to anyone else. Oh, no, no.
And I whisper, Hope, why am I so afraid of you?
Dare I cherish and anticipate a desire?
It’s easier sometimes to shrink back into my petals and not expect beauty.
But, hope urges me to look onward. The hope burning in me doesn’t take no for an answer. The hope that is given to me says, don’t shrink back. Look to the Light! Open your heart up to take a step each and every day. When my petals are closed, I can’t feel the warmth of the sun….
Highs and lows are not what’s needed. Just a daily, gentle walk. A good friend reminded me recently to stop thinking about days and labeling them “bad” or “good,” but to simply walk in what’s given that day to walk out.
I’ve demanded of hope as a little, spoiled child, “give me highs and perfect days! That’s what hope is ‘spost to do!”
Being demanding, rather than hoping for the beauty that is part of us to display every day. The beauty that can bloom in the rain, and lift its face to the falling rain and drink of its healing cleanse.
It’s a ludicrous trust, when sometimes it doesn’t make sense to even dream. Permission for my heart to soar, and the dare to look for beauty tomorrow. Hope exists, so that we can thrive in our walk.
So today. I dream. I hope. I walk. I look for beauty. But, in the right place. Not in people, or things. Not in the perfect day, or all the elements of my life being exactly what I think it ought to be.
My hope is in God. My hope is in my slow and steady walk with Him. My hope is in my Creator who makes all things new and beautiful in their time. I rest. I walk. I breathe. I dream. I dare to hope.
Feelings sometimes tell me to give up my hope. Fact tells me my hope will not disappoint when it’s placed rightly.
And I say to you, don’t give up. Don’t lose heart. There is beauty. Beauty that far exceeds our expectations, and hope that blooms in the rain.