Three days late and hope timidly peeks it’s head out in my soul. Wouldn’t that be just like God? Just when the professionals say we need some help and He pulls a miracle. Four days late and I’m giddy on hope. It would be just perfect, just before Christmas. Our own miracle after four years. Day five I wake up seeing red. Hope comes crashing loud in my ears. Dearest cautioned me. My own head warned me. So many times, hope has ended here, in pain and disappointment and depression. In “Why not me?” and “That was mean.” But I just couldn’t reign it in. So I’m not doing so good today. Here in the middle of the Christmas season, I’m lonely. I’m wounded. I’m struggling with hope. And instead of trying to keep up the charade of Christmas cheer, I thought I’d be honest. I hope your week has been better than mine.
Have a good weekend.
Image via @thedesignchaser