holes of hope

i’ve been overwhelmed with this idea of hope lately.

i mean the definition of hope is: the feeling that what is wanted can be had or the events will turn out for the best; a person or thing in which expectations are centered; to look forward to with desire and reasonable confidence.

i can’t imagine going through a single day of life with no hope. how do people get from day to day without hope?  THE hope. there is One in whom hope is found. there is One from whom hope finds its very meaning.

two weeks ago i got a call that woke me up, it was my mom telling me that my uncle was in critical condition at the hospital due to a heart-attack. i packed up my things and drove home just as soon as i could. i could tell from the tone in my mom’s voice that this was a very serious situation…serious as in the doctors were “preparing” my aunt and family.  with salty tears carving their path down my cheeks, i quietly prayed, whispering my deep plea into God’s ear. “oh Lord, please heal him. let him overcome, just as You have overcome.”

it was a conversation of few words, not even a monologued script. just a simple prayer in the secret place.

that thursday’s air was warm and its sky overcast.  yet, every now and then a ray of light would pierce through a small opening between the clouds. i was so focused on this one beaming stream of light that it took me a few moments to realize that there were other streams of light just like this one i was observing. but just as soon as the rays had burst through the clouds, they were covered up again until another ray shone through a different cloud gap. it was constantly changing, but for a brief moment–there was light.

being the sky-facinated girl that i am, i was deep in thought over this mysterious cloud game…unaware that my reflections were now audible. i began to wonder, “what if every place where a ray is concentrating its light was God bringing a glimmer of hope into an overcast situation? what if the changing light was someone’s  fresh hope into a rough day?”

 the next three days were personified with tears,  unwelcomed voices of reason, and that horrible hospital smell. we prayed and we prayed. standing strong in the promise of the cross. stretching hands over lifeless conditions. the doctor told us, “i wish it was his heart. i could fix his heart. but it’s not…its his brain. we need him to wake up.” this is that point. that point where human hands stop. that point where the impossible sets in. that point where my God breathes life. i’ve seen it done before. the possibility of the impossible.

it’s now sunday. i headed up to the hospital to see my uncle one more time before i drove back east.  my dad and i entered his ICU room and prayed again. the only thing i could softly voice was, “please, let him wake up. God, wake him up.” 

—then the most beautiful thing happened. the room began to light up as a beam of light broke through a hole in the sky and shined straight through the hospital window and onto my sleeping uncle. it was so bright on him that when my uncle’s sister entered the room she pulled the curtains. i stood there speechless, with those oh-so-faithful tears expressing my awe and wonder at this moment. hope. shining hope. a moment of hope.

He who conquered death. He who gives grace. He who rides on the clouds. He who whispers to my heart. He who sees our pain. He who never fails. He who is kind. He who prepares a place where there are no tears. He is our hope. He is our hope. He is our hope!

whether we acknowledge the glimmer or not, there are holes of hope everywhere. everyday. God sees. even if it is for a moment…it is a breath that reminds us of who God is and who we are in Him.

monday. new mercies. my uncle woke up. he woke up. praise the Lord on high, he woke up! ……sunday was only a sparkle. monday was the miracle.

xx

“For God, who said, ‘ Let light shine out of darkness,’ made His light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Jesus Christ.” 2 corinthians 4:6

holes of hope