Hope

These are pictures I took, of the same cross, on Maundy Thursday and then a few days later, on Easter Sunday last week at my church. To me, they represent what I hold on to most tightly every single day.

Hope.

Every day I get up hoping that the day will be good. That I will find my purpose for the day, for the hour, for the moment. That I will smile. That I will be moved to tears. That I will experience the joy that comes from knowing deep down in my bones that my Lord died but rose again.

And to me, that doesn't just mean I believe when I go to church, or during Lent or on Easter morning. To me, that means that I have hope in every part of my life, in every part of my day.

And yes, a lot of the time it's hard to hold on to that hope. Particularly when employment ends (as it did, again, for me on Sunday) or when bad things happen to people I love. When I'm unsure of which way to go next, which path to take. When I do my best to move my body and eat well and the scale doesn't move. When I get rejection after rejection.

And yet...these crosses stay with me. These images, ingrained in my head by a lifetime of faith and learning, keep me going. Keep me getting out of bed each morning, often when the sun's not yet out, strapping on the running shoes, moving out the door, then settling in at the desk. These images keep me praying and believing. They keep me writing and cooking. They keep me hopeful and optimistic and sure that in the end, all will be well.

Several weeks ago I turned a script over to someone at a production company. Since then, I've had to fret and stew and wait. My work is done for now. I have no idea if they like it, it they've even read it. And yet? I have faith, I believe, that for some reason, this is my path.

I am beyond blessed not by the things I have or the life I live but because I have faith. I have hope. To me, there is nothing more important. It is what got me through two weeks of nursing duty, knowing Angela would heal after her fall. It is what got me through the great sadness of losing so many family members in the past years. It is what gets me through every day here in Los Angeles, knowing, trusting, believing, that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Many Christians say Christmas is their favorite holiday and I am usually right there with them. But this month, this season, I can't help but think that Lent, and particularly Holy Week, might ultimately win out. About how two such stark and opposing images of such a powerful symbol can bring about immense emotion.

For me, it's all about the hope.