Uncover Hope.

"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

What if hope does disappoint?

What if hope does seem to 'put us to shame'?

Some days, I hate hope. I know, sounds critical and cynical, but lets be honest -- it's also hope that brings disappointment, discouragement, etc. Because we allowed ourselves to long, to yearn, to hope for better, for dreams, for life... and then, splat. Empty wallows, or unkept promises, or sadden souls at the luring loss of hope.

Now truly, I understand, it's a hope for all things better. A hope for eternity. A hope for heaven. It is hope that does develop perseverance, character, etc. But in the process, I find myself having to be also pruned of the jaded-ness that grows when hope comes up short.

Perhaps that is the development of character. Allowing to be pruned and still keep pushing ahead, hoping, rejoicing in all things.

Now, lets put this into perspective, so you, as a reader, can grasp what I'm getting at, and why this long entourage of cut thoughts bleed out... So I'll shift my perspective from my own heart eyes, like a zoomed in Google-map, to seeing the broader so others can see the map that's painted.

I hope. Deeply. For this portrait of home and life and goodness that is etched inside. It breeds from my own experience, living with candlesticks and boats and good-night prayers and encouragement at every turn. It breeds from my snuggle naps with Garrett, and my laughter with him at the park. It breeds from longings as a child, playing with dolls, setting tables, and knowing how much of my mom planted and grew in me.... And from life, from pregnant friends, from stories of cuddling kids in the morning, from books, Bible Studies, and the pulsing life-blood of the church aimed continually at the nuclear family, and coming through the lack there-of with displaced centrality.

I could sit and talk with Will for hours sometimes, feel his arms so strong and silky, lean into him on the couch, and laugh so hard under moonlit woods. It all breeds hope. Talking about houses and kids and cooking... and prayer and night and silent dreams. So many things about him brought me great joy; fullness; a fresh sense of color. Tired days, he refreshed me. Anxious days, he relaxed me. Hope blossomed out of good.

But because of so many other things, because of my need to self-protect, to stand back and see. To linger in what is real beyond the dreams. I closed my eyes and couraged to walk away.

Away from a slice of safety. Away from his strength next to me at the table this Frieday. Away from human approval - that I'd 'finally met someone' and no longer had to prove my feminine worth, or justify my position in life. Away, but now "put to shame" in the light of human eyes as I am no longer a "we" or talking about a "he". Instead, its just "me."

Where I find myself today, knowing the real and telling myself, listing it off in honest truth so that I can see the truest vision, uncovered by perspective. Feeling the good, but willing to state the bad. I stand in space, with mountains and valleys, flourish fields and fallen trees, and look back and forward, for what was dreams and what wants to be, hope.

I find it. I uncover it inside myself. I stand wishing and wanting, but knowing and being, in the strength outside society, but what is found from the Spirit within me. I beg, and ask, for in His goodness, that I find it. Hope.