We have this HOPE as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.
Dan rides alone to and from school everyday. He realized early on that he needed that time to be alone, pray, and think. The time going to school is usually prayerful, and the time coming home is usually a deep breath to prepare for ME! I like to dissect every part of both of our days as soon as he walks in the door, and since he tends on being more of an introvert, he has time to think on his way home, when he rides alone.
My dad is a big, “Hey… Listen to this sermon…” kind of guy, or “This sermon the other day said… and I think it was really something you should hear.” He sent us a ton during our pregnancy with Mary Anna, while we were walking through a time filled with lots of fear, and he sent us a lot after her life was completed to share a glimpse of hope. I have always been thankful for that in my dad.
Needless to say, Dan decided to start listening to sermons on the way to school, ever since Mary Anna went to be with Jesus. It has helped him process her life and death, stay firm in his faith, and learn to trust in a way he would have never been able to before. Therefore, most evenings he shares what he learned that day with me through whatever podcast he listened to that morning.
Lately my heart has been really sad and lonely. I have seemed to feel the weight of Mary Anna’s death heavy on me. Early on, my focus was on her life and trying to process what God wanted to do with what time she had on earth, and the hard part is once you have processed her short little life, you have to process her death. Like I previously wrote
, processing your baby girl’s death is hard and dark, and I have felt like I recently have been in the darkest days since July 17th
I was encouraged, by a friend, to focus on hope.
Hope? Do I even want to have hope right now? Not really…
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my HOPE comes from him.
But… I spent last Sunday afternoon looking up every verse of hope that is in the index of my Bible. I wrote them all down, and each time I feel dark and lonely, I read the list of what my hope is in.
I would dare to speak for D, that he has felt dark and lonely lately too. He recently came to me with tears in his eyes and said, “Why does it feel like it’s getting harder and not easier as time goes on?” I sadly responded with tears, lots of them, “I do not know.”
Yesterday, Dan told me that his sermon was on hope. The hope in Christ, the hope in death, the hope in suffering, and that he felt like we needed to focus on hope.
I whipped out my list of verses, and told him that I thought he was right. So, we prayerfully, missing our baby girl more than ever, concluded that it was clear enough that hope is what we should rest in right now. And Christ is our hope.
For everything that was written in the past was written to teach us, so that through endurance and the encouragement of the scriptures we might have HOPE.