Having Hope

We transplanted a tomato from our garden bed to a pot a little late in the season. It was shading everything around it and taking over (also, we didn’t know we were supposed to prune it! We are learning). We moved it to its new home and crossed our fingers.  A few weeks ago, I was working in the garden and I spied a tiny red tomato on our transplant. After a few touch and go weeks, it was producing! There was hope!

The concept of hope has been on my mind a lot lately.

When I was pregnant with Amelia, I lived in fear of a miscarriage every day until about 24 weeks. Now she’s here, and is the most tiring joy of my life! A month ago, when I saw those two lines I felt….weird but excited. Well okay then, baby two, here we go! I felt cautious, but less afraid this time. My track record was good. Then, things were not okay. Our miscarriage started on Amelia’s first birthday, what a strange day. We were celebrating our first born, while losing our second.

In the midst of my sorrow, I have felt a deep sense of hope, but oftentimes the grief would come so strong it would make me question, “what is the purpose of hope?”

I’ve asked that to God over and over these last few weeks.

The doctor told me that the emotional healing after a miscarriage was not going to be linear, and that’s the most accurate statement I’ve ever heard. Maybe it was my misconception of what a miscarriage was, but I had no idea the physical changes my body would go through for the weeks to come and the emotional toll my heart would feel. My grief comes in overwhelming tidal waves, and, even as I sit and play with my beautiful, healthy daughter, my heart deeply aches. I have asked God to make me feel better. I’ve begged him to take this cup from me. I have asked him to “make me feel His hope.”

This word, “hope,” repeatedly comes up, over and over, to the point that I thought maybe I am just tricking myself into believing it.

I have questioned God so much and so often that I really wasn’t even giving myself the opportunity to sit and listen.

Quite frankly, I didn’t want to sit and listen.

Sitting and listening meant being quiet.

Being quiet meant feeling uncomfortable.

Being quiet meant feeling the pain of my grief.

To be honest, I’m tired of feeling the sadness.

It’s exhausting to feel that pain on top of being the mother of a spunky one-year-old.

That is what God required of me, though. Oftentimes, when we are searching and praying, that is the only thing He requires of us.

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still. –Exodus 14:14

I stopped asking why it happened. I stopped asking how come. I stopped asking what’s the point.

I sat with the word hope and I let God speak to me. For days, I would take on the waves of grief that would come; I would cry and I would listen.

I envisioned God holding me and weeping with me. Babies are precious in God’s sight. I do not believe that our miscarriage, or any miscarriage, is a part of “God’s Plan.” I believe that God is deeply grieving with us as we move through this experience.

This is not part of His plan, but there is purpose, and that’s where hope comes in.

I’m going to say something bold: hope is not necessarily a “feel good” feeling.

Having hope can be uncomfortable.

Having hope can still feel like darkness.

Having hope means that we are currently living in the discomfort of the right now, while looking forward to the future that is not yet but promised by God.

Having hope does not mean that we can wash over our current pain because we just think it will get better. That’s called avoidance, and sometimes, the healing and renewal that we need for the future needs to happen in our present pain.

But you may be saying, “Sarah, what about Romans 5:5? It says that hope does not disappoint!”

Correct! It does, but do you know what can be the seed of hope? Suffering. “More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us.”

There may be times in our lives where we will simultaneously feel the warmth of hope while also feeling the pain of our current suffering. Having hope does not prohibit us from feeling disappointed.

Look at King David, a man after God’s own heart. David so often lamented to God about his sufferings. Throughout the book of Psalm, it is evident that David felt darkness in his life.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you. (Psalm 139:11-12)

I’ve always loved this verse as a go-to when I needed a reminder of hope, but God taught me something new through this scripture that I would like to point out.

“even the darkness will not be dark to you.”

“the darkness is as light to you.”

Pain in your life, is inevitable. We live in a broken world. Our hearts will be broken. Darkness will surely make us feel hidden at some point or another. Whether it is the physical loss of a loved one or the broken dreams of expectations not met, darkness is a part of our Earthly experience. However, our Heavenly Father, does not know darkness. That is hope.

When I have my moments of sadness, I envision God holding me. I hear him saying, “I know.” God sees my pain, sits with my pain, and is holding onto the light for me.

Life is quite the paradox. I have never felt that to be so true than in the last month.

If you’re in a season of suffering, be patient in your suffering. Have grace for yourself when life feels disappointing, unfair, overwhelming. You may not feel the light, but God is light and He is present.

If you are in a season of joy, be patient and present to those who are suffering. Be the light that we cannot see. You feel light, because God is light and He is present.

I'll say it again, God is light and He is present.