Hope Never Ends

Today marks the end of something life-changing.

But really, truly, it's not the end. And no, I'm not talking about the Olympics (though I wish someone had told me to record the Closing Ceremony!).

Odds are, you haven't heard about this event on the news. It's been circulating around the blogosphere like wildfire, though, and I'd like to be one of the last participants to carry this inspirational torch of hope.

(Be sure to check out where the Relay of Hope began and will end - with Melanie Crutchfield - and where I heard about it from - huge kudos to Aly Lewis.)

In all these true* stories of hope, though, there is a common thread:

Hope, however minute, however seemingly insignificant, endures.

... ... ...

I'd like to tell you about a friend named Ted. Ted is a fantastic guy. He loves large, but he's been let down hard. Ted was once a pastor, but after years in ministry, he had the rug pulled out from under him, along with everything he'd ever known. He moved, bitter and resentful, and still searches for a glimmer - a spark of hope that something might actually go right in this world for once.

Some people see Ted as heretical or unbelieving. Really, truly, though, Ted seems lost more than anything. He searches and he searches, but the wounds of his past failures keep reopening, and after so long, the pain seems too much to bear.

Somehow, someway, though, Ted keeps smiling. At the very least, he's still fighting, because he knows there's something more to this life than the pain and rejection he's experienced thus far.

Ted needs this hope.

... ... ...

I'd also like to tell you about a friend named Mark. Really, I'm not sure what to make of Mark. We aren't really friends in the traditional sense, but I'd consider him someone I care about. I haven't known him long, but in the time that I've known him, the voices talking about him have had a tendency to drown out the very voice that is his.

Rumors about about Mark persist: "He's a drug dealer," or "He has mental issues," or even "He's a thief." It's difficult to drown out these remarks, but hope covers them all.

Instead of hearing these words when I think about Mark, I instead think of his kindness. I think of his good-natured smile and his laugh. I think of the fact that he tends to a beautiful garden, creating and caring for the purest form of hope: life itself.

The cards seem stacked against Mark, but I know there's something greater within him and even greater seeking him.

Mark needs this hope.

... ... ...

I'd also like to tell you about a couple we know well named Vincent and Christine. These two are happily married, journeying through life hand in hand. They each have different visions of the future, but somehow, they mesh.

Vincent enjoys being friendly with strangers and Christine enjoys entertaining and catching up with old friends. They each love serving those "beneath" society, those most often forgotten. They may not have the nicest house, but their hearts are adorned with the finest decor of love. They're on a mission to change the world, one person at a time.

Vincent and Christine struggle with various ailments, both physical, mental, and spiritual. If it's not one thing, it's another. But you would never know it by their smiles.

Vincent and Christine need this hope.

... ... ...

What could possibly be worth celebrating and commemorating by so many?

You've seen this hope. Maybe in yourself. Maybe in a friend. Maybe in a complete stranger. Hope lingers and never lets go. It flickers, but never extinguishes. It shines and never shorts out.

Yet hope is not some vague notion of some better reality far off in the distant future. Hope is here. Hope is now. Hope is in stories like these - stories that reflect goodness, love, and truth. Hope ignores the haters while changing their hearts.

Then again, maybe hope is something far off. But it could never arrive at its destination without first changing today.

Think of those you love the least. Think of those who hurt you. Think of those who degrade you. Those who have ripped your heart from your chest, stomped on it, spit on it, and pretended like nothing ever happened.

These people, each and every one of them, desire hope. Want hope. Seek hope. Need hope. 

Despite our best chances to quench its fire, hope carries on.

Today may mark what we're calling the "Closing Ceremonies" of the Relay of Hope, but this is no ending. Instead, it's another step toward something greater, toward hope realized.

Will you pass Hope's torch today? Or will you do your best to smother out its flames? Will you look to the best in your neighbor and love them for that, or will you let doubt win out? Will you get to know someone better today, or will you brush them off as a nuisance?

Friends, we could all be Ted or Mark or Vincent and Christine. We could all be those people, hoping - so dearly hoping - and yet hushed by the world. We could be seeking a better tomorrow, while so many point to a poorer yesterday. We all exude imperfection, but we're all craving hope.

Remember these people today. For you, they may have different names, different faces, and different situations. They may have deeper hurts, bigger flaws, and more regrets, but the fundamental truth about them, about us all, remains the same: they seek hope, and hope seeks them.

The only question left, then, is if we're willing to get out of the way.

... ... ...

* All names contained in these stories have been changed to protect people I love. The content, however, is completely true. 

How has hope inspired you lately?

The "I Don't Care" of Christmas

This is a follow-up to another post I recently wrote. Enjoy!

So apparently there's this big holiday coming up. People are getting excited, and for some reason, extra mushy-gushy. Something about presents, a tree, and some other nonsense. Yada, yada, yada.

Is there any chance that this echoes how you feel around this time of the year?

If so, you're not alone.

Every year around this time, I get a little (read: very) cynical. Frankly, I stop caring about Christmas.

Say whaaaaaaaaat?!

Yeah, I know. I'm not a good American. Or Christian. Or both. Something like that. Feel free to stone me, if you please. But hear me out before you do.

I'm so fed up with everything about Christmas. This post should have made that clear enough. It celebrates everything I hate about America. Our materialism. Our self-centeredness. Our excessive wealth.

More than that, though, it celebrates a fundamental truth about each and every one of us: there's an emptiness inside of us that needs to be filled. We each recognize it to some extent and go to extravagant measures to fill it. Sadly, all the stuff in the world can't patch the crater that exists in our souls.

Sure, some of us think that "Jesus is the reason for the season." If that's really the case, why don't we show that? Christmas season lasts about a month, and yet we only dedicate a few hours of that month to "the reason" for it. Sounds like a big, fat lie to me.

Instead, we dedicate hundreds of hours to shopping, wrapping, and opening presents. The culmination of it all comes Christmas morning around the Christmas tree as we try our hardest to top the "magical" feeling we had the year before. Really, though, we're just looking to get more stuff than the year before, and if we don't, it's a "bad" Christmas.

None of it makes sense.

As I've thought about this, I've wondered what I can do to rekindle the true meaning of Christmas, even for a moment. I've submitted to the fact that, by myself, I can't make Christmas about what it truly should be. And it may never mean what it should. However, I have found that if I can claim moments of Christmas for what it should be, that must be better than nothing.

So I remember...

I remember the silence - the hundreds of years before Jesus' birth when everyone thought God had died.

I remember the pain - a teenage girl giving birth in a barn.

I remember the hopelessness - a child born at the worst possible time.

But I also remember...

God speaking. Not through word, but in action. Instead of just saying, "I'm still here," He came.

The healing. A broken family, united in love by a child.

The hope. A savior, born to bear the sins of the world, to give us a second chance at life.

And so, like Mary, I treasure these things. 

In a world of broken busyness and extravagant excess, I remember that I have a father who was willing to sacrifice everything for me, and not so I could spend my time giving people stuff they don't need.

People need to hear God's voice. People need to be healed. People need a new hope.

People need Christmas.

I need Christmas.

And though you don't care about it, maybe you do too.

... ... ...

Questions: Do you care about Christmas? What is your favorite part about the holiday? What can you do to enjoy Christmas more?

Joy

Learned a new formula today: a spoon of pumpkin + a Pumpkin Spice K-Cup = pumpkin pie coffee. Great discovery, indeed.

Joy is confusing, really.

Few of us really understand it, myself included. Is it happiness? Why don't we just call it that?

Or is it something deeper? Something less circumstantial. Something more fulfilling, less fleeting. Joy seems to be elusive for most, and yet, it is evident when it is present in others.

So what is it? Where does it come from?

In my mind, joy is a derivative of hope. Without hope, you cannot have joy. And sure, hope might seem circumstantial, but not true hope. If you have true hope within you, it never disappears. It isn't contingent on whether or not you pass a class, get a certain degree, or find a certain job. It doesn't need people to like you or to support you, and it doesn't need you to be successful or famous.

Indeed, joy is hard to come by, because true hope is hard to come by. It seems elusive. It appears fleeting.

Where is your hope? And is it true? Or is it merely a shadow of what could be? Do you find your hope waning with your bank account? Or is it dependent on something that never changes.

Think. Reflect. Wonder. If only for 5 minutes, consider whether your hope is true. Then you will see why your joy fades. Why it only seems like happiness, veiled by a mask of something greater.

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These are my Five Minute thoughts, unedited, unadulterated, unprepared, for this Friday. Check out The Gypsy Mama if you want to know more!

A Snippet from School: Trying to be the best student that I can be

As this itch to blog persists, I have decided to scratch it.

Yesterday, I went to school and was, for the most part, sick. I had some nasty chills and a killer headache. However, because I worked my bottom off to finish a project/paper the night before and because we had Greek homework and a quiz (which I was destined to bomb), I decided it was in my best interest to ignore my body and go anyway. I didn't expect to learn much in my zombie-like state, but this is where God surprised me...