“I wait for the LORD; my whole being waits, and in his word I
put my hope.” Psalm 130:5
Hope.
I have a complicated relationship with this word.
Hope is where my faith began.
I hoped to make sense of this world and find meaning in the
things that did not make sense.
Faith is where my peace began.
As I grew in my faith, I came to care less about making sense of
the world and found purpose in making meaning out of things that did not make
sense.
Hope is also where my hurt began.
Answered prayers laid a strong foundation for my faith, but
unanswered prayers are where grief found a home.
When my daughter was diagnosed with a rare brain disease in
2016, I prayed for her to survive brain surgery; we were gifted with her
life.
After surgery, I prayed her life would return to normal; within
a few months, we learned her surgery had failed.
I prayed for her to survive when she had her second brain
surgery; again, we were gifted with her life.
After her surgery, I prayed for her life to return to normal.
Within a week she was hospitalized with a post-surgical infection. Six years,
fourteen hospitalizations and four additional surgeries later, she is unable to
clear the original infection. She entered palliative care last summer after suppressive
antibiotic therapy started to fail.
Since then, I have been praying for time. We have been gifted
with ten months and hope to be gifted with many more. The last ten
months have been some of her most challenging both physically and emotionally.
There are days I feel selfish for hoping.
At some point I stopped praying for healing. I know that
God will heal her. Instead, I pray fervently for healing to happen on this
side of heaven.
I have a complicated relationship with hope; my faith remains
unshaken.
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