Hope Lifts

I love my life.

I love the road, and the smells that it brings. I sit and watch the Georgia sunset and wonder how in the world did God bring me to this place? I am so blessed. I must be among the riches of the rich, feeling the presence of the King as He gives and gives his blessings and love to me. I recognize Him in the relationships that I am privileged to partake in. The new ones, and the aged ones. Each has His image, and I see it. How did I get here? I wonder as I ride down this highway and feel the comfortable cushion underneath me. Sipping Dr. Pepper and wondering what tomorrow could possibly hold that would take my breath away more than today. I am loved. I am known. I am held. By Him, the holder of all things. There are things in my life I don't understand, and wish I had, but He hears me. This I know.

I have been thinking much on hope lately, and the danger it brings to my life. The bible tells me that Hope never disappoints. I live and breathe based on what the Word tells me. However, this one is hard to understand. If this Hope that it speaks of means in life, based on eternity, then yes, Hope Never disappoints. I know that I will find my home with Jesus, and long for the day of constant, uninterrupted commune with him and my Father. But if it means no disappointment now, I am lost.

I went to a Hallmark store when we were in MO about a month ago. I never go into that store, but I was bored and looking for a card for someone. As I was walking, I saw these little angel statues. I am sure most of you have seen them. They are wooden and show friends, or mom, dad and kids. But then I saw this one, that sort of struck me. It was a child holding a balloon. He was looking up at the balloon as if he was about to leave the earth. The balloon was made of wire and written in it was the word, "Hope".

It was entitled "Hope Lifts Us Up".

Hope lifts. It said something to me. I just stood there staring at it. And crying. I forced myself to think about the children my heart longs for. I have prayed and tried for so long to have a child of my own. And it seems that every time I see one, something in me yearns, longs, exasperates for it. Timing. I know. I have heard the sermon. Tell "wait" to my heart one more time and it will laugh. Wait is tattooed on the outside of my heart and has been there so long it feels like home. And that is where Hope knocks. He is like a kid playing a trick on my heart. You know the trick, there is a knock on the door and you go to see who it is, but when you open the door, no one is there. And when you close the door, there is another knock. I find myself playing this game with Hope month after month, year after year. And I cant help but fall for it's trickery. I MUST open the door. Every time I come to the conclusion that this time I will not answer, I see something in the window. A moment, then hidden. Brown eyes, brown hair. That smile. A child playing tricks. knocking, then running away with jumps and giggles. I must answer. I must open the door to Hope. It isn't disappointing, that is the wrong word. Hope is hidden.

I visited my sister last week. On the drive there I was thinking and praying about this Hope that bugs me so much. I was thinking of that little statue that struck my heart that day in MO. Hope lifts...Hope lifts.... I thought of calling Drew and telling him that I liked it, I knew if I told him I liked it, that he would buy it for me. He spoils me like that. But then I thought, no, I don't really need it, and I just kept driving and continued praying about the things in my life.

I had a great visit with my sister and nephews. I hadn't seen them since Christmas (way too long) and the visit was priceless to me. It was almost time for me to leave and my sister was showing me some cards she had just received in the mail from friends (she makes cards and sells them to raise money for the adoption of their little girl in China. Kariscards.org). Then she said, "Oh! I got this for you. I went into this store for no reason really, and I saw this and felt like you should have it".




He heard me. He hears me.


I am not content with living facing forward. My gaze must always be different than the most. It must look past the obvious, and into the Promise. It must look up. That is where my home is. That is where I see Hope. That is when it Lifts.