This reflection is inspired by “Beautiful Hope – Finding Hope Every Day in a Broken World” a collection of essays by diverse contributors including Pope Francis, a former rock band drummer, a WWII veteran and a great grandmother.
I am a hopeful person. Hopeful, always. Hope is the shawl I wrap tightly around me when the chill of worry and fear creep in. Its fibers of faith and trust are tightly woven, providing warmth, comfort, protection. Faith and trust in a God, who loves in a way I can’t fully comprehend, and who is with me always.
What do I hope for? Peace, mostly. In my life, for my husband and children, my family and friends, in communities and countries. To live a long, healthy life. That my children’s lives are free of problems. For an end to war, violence, poverty, bigotry and for an overall reprogramming of the human condition. But is this hope or desire?
Who wouldn’t want these things for themselves, their families, this world? But the reality is we all face obstacles on our human journey. Suffering, on some level, is part of the price of being a member of this human race. So where, then, is the hope?
Hope is the absolute conviction, that despite knowing I may become ill or a child will face financial problems, God is present. When racisms burns and violence destroys, God is present. Whenever the dark side of human nature, casts shadows, blocking the Light, God is present. The essence of hope is the certainty, the faith, the trust that no matter what, God is present, and in the words of Julian of Norwich, “All shall be well.”
That is my hope. That is my peace.
Thoughts & Prayers 