You may find yourself without hope today.
A little over a year ago, I found myself in the darkest time of my life. My marriage had ended. There were days I couldn’t leave my house. Days I hurt myself. Days I didn’t eat. Or sleep. Or care. I wanted to die. I saw no purpose in life.
The only thing I (barely) had strength to do was ask. I needed help, and I knew it. Because of the generosity and insight of my friends, I was able to receive intensive counseling at an inpatient facility in the southwest. Walking in, I thought it was my last chance. Nothing had pulled me out of the blackness that consumed me and the poisonous lies that poured death into my every thought. It seemed like nothing could save me. No person. No bible verse. No career achievements. No amount of money. No church. Nothing.
The time I spent in the mountains with lots of solitude, therapy, reflection, and prayer changed my life. It didn’t change it right away. But over the course of minutes, days, months…it changed me.
About a month ago, I was driving home and I started crying on I-65 north, one of the main interstates in Nashville. In the last two years, I’ve cried more tears than I ever did in my thirty-some-odd years combined.
These tears were different.
They were tears of joy.
Pure, crazy, maniacal, absurd, unexplainable tears of joy.
Hope ran over me like a semi truck. People were hope. Scripture was hope. My own potential was hope. Truth was hope. Church was hope. Love was hope. Strangers. Family. Food. Stars. Hiking. Cycling. Sun. Christmas trees. Cold air. Warm breezes. Colors. Embraces. Smiles. Coffee. Music. Friends. Laughter. Babies. Candles. Wine. Books.
An infinite explosion of subtleties and miracles filled me with hope.
Does grief still exist? Yes. Regret? Yes. Sadness? Yes. Confusion? Yes. Fear? Yes.
Yes, yes, yes.
Hope walks around these broken places in my heart and gently touches each one, reminding me of their purpose.
There is hope for all of us. It may be far, far away from you right now. Please take comfort in knowing it is there. And when the time is right and it drowns you in every rich drop, your life will completely change. From someone who has been to the valley of death and has returned with an abundance of undeserved life, there is hope.
With love,
Anne
(I won’t be writing online much. Indefinitely. Maybe one day I’ll use this medium again, but for now until as long as I can imagine, my next right step is to continue taking time away. I’ve started school full time. I’m writing. I’m living!)
