There May Yet Be Hope

After a week of navigating multiple infections, side effects from the antibiotics to treat them, layers upon layers of pain, my wheelchair ramp in the van breaking again, as well as the van being in an accident and needing repair, single parenting through the highs and lows of two young adults, a high schooler, and a middle schooler, all while trying to give our children the comforting normalcy of a home ready to welcome Christmas, it is tempting to despair, or to long for a storyline different than this one.

But at the crest of a new week with new challenges, I look back and can see so clearly where a mighty and tender King saw me sitting in the dark on the floor of my locked bathroom, reached out for me, held me close, and gently walked me through each step, whispering words of hope and assurance and goodness to me. He has been with me through it all, and the whole week He has sung compassion over me.

Saturday he sang Lamentations 3:29 over me, reminding me that even when facedown in the dust, there is hope. My peace grew as He shone a light through my despair. Even though this illness will most likely end my time in this world, He gives me hope and joy and life, and not just me, but many others as well.

As my wingman had to fly out of state again, leaving me to carry the weight of the household while pushing through crushing pain, I found truths in the book of James that promise that my suffering will mold endurance, leaving me perfect and complete. Digging into the Gospels for my church class, I read about crowds of people entrenched in suffering who travelled long and far to receive His healing. Like me, they were desperate for wholeness and relief, and in His compassion He gave them healing. I am left wondering, is this the same Jesus who might choose not to heal my body on earth? Will he let my little loves continue to watch me waste away to nothing and then have to grow up without their mom? Will he let my husband of 23 years become a widow and a single parent?

Then I find that He never promised a life of comfort. He promised great struggle and suffering. And hard as that is to comprehend, I hold to His promise that His Kingdom will come through the mending of all that is broken, and that His power is made great in my weakness. He came here to suffer an agonizing death so that I can learn to suffer well in His footsteps; that even in my pain I can find peace and joy and purpose.

He is gentle with me when I struggle with my limitations and when I question the good in my story. He is also faithful to remind me that as I live out a story I never would have chosen for my family, and take up my cross again and again to follow Him, this is the road that leads to everlasting life.