Let’s just get really real. There are days, despite my best efforts and most earnest reflection, that I still feel hopeless.
This is the part where we don’t get rescued. This is the part where our small corner of suffering reminds us of greater suffering in the world. This is the part where the hole in our heart feels like it will swallow us up but it doesn’t.
These days. The ones where I’ve lost track of the number of meltdowns before we ever walk out the door. The ones where my son has spent endless hours alone in his room refusing to eat or communicate. The ones where I wonder if I really am cut out for this journey of parenting a difficult mind.
This wandering and exhaustion feels like a desert. Yet it is in the desert where beautiful oases exist. It was in the desert that Jesus met Evil and won. It was the desert that signifies deliverance for Israel with freedom just ahead.
There are hopeless days. They are real. It is what I do with my hopeless days that determines what happens next for me and for my son.
So this time, in this pain, I need others to hope for me…
I say yes to encouragement and prayer. I actually reached out and said “This is hard, please carry me.”
I call for back up. My mom whisks in and for 3ish hours she puts my son to work in her yard and I take a nap. I restore.
I say yes to a friend and her kids when they ask for a visit. There is nothing quite as hopeful as the laughter of children and sweet conversation of a dear friend.
I let someone else play a role. I say yes to extra hands so I can throw in the laundry, run to the store and have a few moments of quiet alone. This means I let someone else be me for a bit, one of the hardest thing for a full time mama to do, but precious in ways I can’t explain.
Hopeless days happen. That is reality. In those moments I am reminded that there is always something to hope for. Restoration, healing, peace. These things have been promised to us and they will come.
In the midst of feeling hopeless we have to relent, admit our humanity and agree to be carried and then, hen we are strong again, it will be us doing the carrying.
“Hope and sorrow in it all there’s rescue and there’s not.”
There’s Rescue: Not every day is hopeless. There is an eternal Rock called Hope that always remains.
There’s Not: The hopeless places are hard. It’s difficult not to go there when things get hard.
Today I am thankful for hope and those that hope and help on my behalf.