It’s shameful that I haven’t passed by here to share a blog in such a long time.
Life has been busily striking me with uppercuts and other inescapable blows.
I don’t know who needs to hear this right now, but there is hope at the end of your ordeal.
Yes, it’s hard to fathom- often impossible to see. The pain is deeper than anything you’ve experienced, but it’s there…hope. In the valley of death…in a hospital…out on the streets- hope somehow lingers, waiting to return.
Recently, my family experienced a low that gave us pause. I mistakenly thought that I had been to most of life’s destinations and was equipped to handle just about anything. Such foolish confidence.
There is a comfort in reaching a low spot. You can’t go down any further, finding an eerie kind of peace in that…a resting place you didn’t expect. I thought I knew this place, but was surprised to find that it was my first real visit to despair.
Nothing was recognizable, bringing on a feeling of being forsaken.
Crying out to God, but eventually running out of words.
I’m not sure when hope returned. I certainly didn’t see it coming.
Some people believe that hope never leaves. Foolish people. They must not have seen all the sights in Despair, merely traveling to the tourist destinations.
Someone is reading this that needs to know- hope comes back.
And you need to hear it from someone that honestly had no expectation of ever laying eyes on it again.
Hope. It comes back…