One Might Hope

Hope.
It is the best of feelings,
It is the worst of feelings.
(And yes, I think 'ol Charles Dickens would totally agree.)

Hope can be the only light to get you through an incredibly dark situation.
It can be the one thing that keeps you hanging onto a lifeline in seemingly impossible circumstances.
It can be the tiny warm spark that keeps your dwindling light from being extinguished.

When life comes crashing down...we--as humans--are wired to hope for something better. Having that belief that something better could possibly happen, is to have hope.
It helps us see potential beauty where there is currently none.
It enables us to move forward in anticipation of a better situation than the one we are in at the time.
It gives us courage to keep trying because we know there is a possibility of success.

Hope can make us strong, help us persevere and bring us joy. Even the bible tells us that, until the day when we're finally standing next to God, it's one of the three most important things we can have in this world (1 Corinthians 13:13). Hope is good. It is so so good.

Hope, the expectation of something good coming, is even more beautiful when that expectation becomes a reality. When a hope is realized, no matter how big or small, there is something that happens in a heart that is almost indescribable. It's like a missing piece of a huge vase is finally snapped into place and whatever has been slowly trickling (or pouring) out is stopped and suddenly, finally, you have the capacity to be full and whole again.

But, there is another side of hope.

It's the side we experience when an expectation simply dies.
When we face a reality that is not at all what we hoped for.
When what we so desperately wanted is no longer a remote possibility.
When we have to face the realization that the success of a particular dream has simply not happened, and never will.

Depending on what that particular hope was, the failure of it can be the most devastating and crushing feeling in the world. The weight on our chests of a failed hope makes it hard to breathe, hard to stand, hard to keep going.

When God's answer isn't, "Wait.", or "Maybe later."....but a quiet firm, "No.", it can feel like the most severe punishment in the world. It can make us question our desires and doubt everything we have worked for. It can bring us to the point where we know we will never, ever, ever try something again.

You see, when we experience the soul-crushing that can come along with a dashed hope, we often make a seemingly wise choice: to not put ourselves in that precarious position again. If we don't allow hope to wrap a delicate tendril around our situation, then we don't risk ripping it into shreds when that situation explodes around us. No hope at all has to feel better than pulverized hope, right?

The simple answer? Sometimes yes. And sometimes no. If I've been in a particular situation dozens upon dozens of times...and each time it's ended in the exact way I hoped it wouldn't....it might seem better to stop hoping for a different outcome and consistently getting my heart crushed. Truthfully, it would probably be even better to stop putting myself in that same situation and make some different plans..but, if that's not possible, I think it sometimes is better to accept reality and stop hoping it will be different. For instance, if every single time I present an idea to my boss (feel free to substitute spouse, parent, friend or whatever here) I KNOW that she will make a snide comment and then later claim it as her own brilliant idea...if I KNOW it will happen because it's happened a bazillion times before even though I've talked to her about it...then I might as well stop hoping she will respond with respect and subsequently getting my feelings hurt. Since I can't avoid this person, it would help me to just go into the situation knowing what's going to happen, and possibly even finding some morbid amusement over it. Here, suppressed hope is probably best. Then, if there is another outcome...I'll happily take the surprise.

Other times I don't think we're supposed to deny ourselves hope, however scared we are of the outcome. After all, it's the idea of hope that allows us to forgive someone for the 77th time and let them try to make things right again.  It let's us keep trying to make something better that's been so difficult....because we see a possibility of a improvement. It's what makes a kid ask EVERY SINGLE NIGHT OF THEIR EVER-LOVING LIVES if they can have dessert before dinner...because there is a super slim possibility of a "yes".

Sometimes we should accept a situation for what it is and stop adding hope to an equation that always results in hurt. Other times we should do everything we can to fan the little flame of it because we truly believe it's possible. The hardest part sometimes, is knowing the difference. So how do we?

Well, we ask.
We pray and ask the One who knows what the future holds if it's time to give into acceptance or to keep fighting the fight. Believe me...God is well aware of what a powerful emotion hope is. In fact, the bible tells us,

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
But a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."
(Proverbs 13:12)

God knows how crushing a denied hope can be...how sick it can make our very heart. But, He also knows that our very soul can draw strength and life from prayers and hopes that are answered in the way we dream about. When we don't feel released from something...when we feel compelled to keep praying for a certain outcome, when we feel drawn to hope for something that seems impossible to the world...that just may be the Holy Spirit stirring up those embers to make sure our fire doesn't die out. Sometimes, having the strength to keep hoping can only be done by believing that God is way bigger than the circumstances. At the same time, having the strength to gently lay that hope aside and accept what life has dealt you can only be done by believing in God's promise that He only wants the best for you...that He has something better in store for you than what you were hoping for in the first place.

And that's an answer in itself now, isn't it? When you do experience the devastation that comes with a deferred hope (because if you live long enough.....you certainly will!), truly believing that God has a better path in store for you just may be enough to keep a tiny sliver of that emotion alive--even if it's hidden underneath a whole lot of ugly debris.

So I guess I need to amend my original statement a bit.
Hope realized is an amazing feeling.
Hope denied is an awful feeling.
But hope itself is simply necessary. It keeps us living, keeps us trying, keeps us going.
And one day, one beautiful day, it just might get us dessert before dinner.

Wrestling Match

You know how sometimes God puts a book in your hands that PERFECTLY speaks to you and the place you're living in at that exact moment? Yeah. That.

I've been reading this book called Daring to Hope by Katie Davis Majors that's doing just that for me.  In it, the author recounts the story from Genesis where Jacob wrestles with a man sent from God. The wrestling match by the river goes on all night, and though he can't win, Jacob refuses to let go. As dawn is approaching the heavenly guy touches Jacob's hip, divinely wounding him, and Jacob still refuses to release him. Jacob audaciously demands that this being bless him, and the warrior does just that...while giving Jacob a new name at the same time. The meaning of the new name is "one who has struggled with God and with men and has prevailed." As Jacob limps away with his withered hip he names that place "Peniel", which means "I have seen God face to face and my life is preserved,"
(Genesis 32).

The reason that the book's author fixates on this story is because she has been doing some struggling of her own with God. She has asked some hard tough questions of Him...mixed in with some big doubts and heartbreaks from answers she's received. Through all of her questioning though, God never let go of her. Katie says that at the end of this gigantic wrestling match, even though she was battered and scarred, she had a new closeness with God that hadn't been there before.

It's a beautifully written story. I highly suggest you read the whole book...and the one she wrote before it too! But before you think this is just a book promotion, I'll add the personal blog point of it too.

I've had times this year where I've definitely struggled with God. I would even say I'd struggled against Him sometimes. But, instead of wrestling with my fears and hurts...I've taken another route. I've smiled and said "Father, I accept this and thanks for being here with me through it."And I've believed it with all of my being!

Now listen. I know this alternate route I've taken is a good one. The right one. The one God wants me to be on and the one that I myself want to be one. So what's the problem?

Well...there also came times when I wasn't fine. When I'm not fine. And in those moments...the ones where I was truly afraid or angry or sad or overwhelmed....I just put on the same smile and told myself I was JUST FINE. Instead of asking the hard questions and beating on His chest with my struggles, I told Him and myself and anyone who asked that I knew God was in control and everything was going according to His plan.

Did I believe that? Yes, I did and I do. But I still had struggles. I still had hurts. I still had my "injured hip" and I was finding it very hard to walk along in a normal life with such a profound limp.

You see, even if we are given an initial crazy-peace and acceptance that passes all understanding of something we are going through...there's always a "later" when troubles can pop up. Satan sometimes waits until the big crisis is over and the prayers wane a little bit to slip in and bring some old fashioned doubt, pain and hurt with him. That's the point where we make a choice: do we bring these struggles before God and wrestle with Him over their validity? Or do we just paste a smile on our face, shove them deep into the some hidden part of our heart and tell everyone (including God!) that everything is JUST FINE?

That's where I have chosen poorly in the past. It's hard for me to rationalize slipping back into distress when God's already allowed me to overcome so much. Sometimes I feel the pain from that "wrenched hip"and think to myself, "No no no no....I cannot go back there and re-live this....it really hurt and I am way to exhausted and overwhelmed to do it again. I'm fine. By God's grace I'm truly OK and I can't chance NOT being OK."

So I bury my issues and throw myself into living. For the most part, I do quite well with it. I truly do believe that God is real and big and beautiful and loving, and that He wants good things for me. But, at some point the buried issue pile gets big enough to cause a bump in the carpet of my life...and being the clumsy being that I am, I will eventually trip over it and things Will. Scatter. Out.

So you know what I'm learning? I've got to take these struggles to the mat. Every time. I've got to hash them out with the only One who's big and strong enough to take it...whom I don't have to worry about wounding with my angry words or blaming tone. I need to be honest with my Maker. Tell Him that I am scared. That I am mad at what's been lost. That sometimes my hurt overwhelms any healing I've had. I can't hold anything back; I have to wrestle with every ounce of strength in my body. When I do that then I will know that I've given Him the very biggest worst version of my doubting self. And then when He scoops me up and pulls me close, when He cups my chin to turn my tear-streamed face so its right next to His...well, I know if He won't let go of me at that point, then He never will.  Wrestling with Him brings me close to Him. When I've seen Him face-to-face He preserves the life He wants me to have.

Then, when I look at my scars (be they hips or other injuries...) I can remember what He brought me through. Instead of being afraid of the pain that came with the infliction, I see the strength and consistent presence that healed and restored me to a new version of myself. I have a new name.

If the struggles come back (because so often they do!), then I know I can look at my scarred self and instead of feeling exhausted and wounded, remember that I am a "new self" with a proven track record of God being on my side. I can stop and deal with those hurts again...but each time will be easier as long as I put them on the mat in front of God and let HIM do the wrestling. You see...God is pretty big. And (spoiler alert!), He always wins. But He can't beat those struggles if I don't bring them to Him!

I'm thankful I found this book. I'm thankful for the reminder that "Fine" isn't a permanent state of being, but that it can be restored even when it's lost. I'm thankful that God is better at wrestling than I am, and that He's always willing to go a couple rounds with me when I need it.

Lastly, I'm thankful that I can still beat my 14 year old son and nephew in real-life wrestling, even though it may cost me a couple of chips in my teeth. It's the little things....

Gripe Session

I'm feeling a little frustrated today. I'm ready for things to be back to normal. I think I look normal(ish), and for the most part act it. But, in all honesty I just don't feel it.

That's a problem you see, because when people in my life (and on the periphery) ask how I am doing,  I say "fine".  And because all appears "fine", they believe it and expect me to act fine.

(I don't want to tell every single person how I feel, and I don't want to bug anyone with my complaints. It's much easier to say that all is well and move on. Sure we're supposed to be honest...but to be honest...it's annoying for anyone to hear constant whining!)

The truth is...I feel tired. Really tired. My arms and legs are heavy and my head feels like there is a weighted blanket draped across my brain. My headaches are still there...not constant but appearing toward the end of the day and running from behind my eye to the back of my head. If I have to talk with someone about something slightly tricky (including my fam) then the headache gets worse.  It's fine when I'm having a normal conversation with just one person, but if two or more people start talking to me at once, or I'm supposed to be multi-tasking, or if someone is speaking loudly in my face everything in my body tenses up and I get almost shaky. I can't focus and I either get totally overwhelmed to the point of tears or get ridiculously angry and snap. Hence...I'm not such good company.

Then I get into bed and I can't sleep....and I'm actually normally an amazing sleeper! I've tried getting up early the day before, taking a nap to "reset", working out twice and nothing changes. But...I can hardly get up in the morning too. Weird.

There are some lifestyle changes I'm going to have to make. No caffeine for one, a bunch of medication every night, being super cautious (and worried) about migraine triggers, and bowing out of certain commitments. So I'm doing it, but I'm not really focusing on the fact that these changes are life long. I'm just doing them day by day and not facing reality, if that makes sense.

When I think back to the other big life-changing crisis points in my life, I remember feeling like this. I slept very little and made it though the day with tons of coffee, then passed out late at night and woke up early. It must be my coping mechanism, flawed as it may be. Put one foot in front of the other until one reaches a point that one can face the new normal. It's worked for me before so I trust it will work again.

The only difference here is that it's possible that some of the meds may be causing the tiredness, and apparently a "post-stroke-brain" normally has issues with lack of concentration, trouble multi-tasking and emotional lability. Whichever....it's here. It's just hidden and I have to try to feel as normal as I look. It'll happen someday, or I'll get used to this normal. I hope I won't live in fear, and I hope I won't make my kids feel badly when they're stressing me out.

That's it...just wanted a non-burdening place to gripe.