Finding Hope Amid the Hard

I was singing in church with my family last Sunday. An older couple came in and took seats several rows ahead of us. A few moments later, a younger couple walked down to the same row.

The younger woman greeted the older man with a hug. The older lady turned to talk to her too; judging by their profiles, it seemed obvious that they were mother and daughter.

This took only a few seconds, but it was long enough. Long enough to transport me back several years, to another church in another town, when I was the younger woman embracing my dad in the sanctuary while the worship service went on around us.

I lingered there for a second or two, feeling the familiar lump in my throat.

Three years after my parents died, these scenarios don’t often bring on tears (although it’s OK when they do). The poignant memories that well up make me miss my mom and dad, but even more, they make me profoundly grateful for all the good times we shared.

Here’s what I’m learning as I walk this road of life and loss.

Though everyone who loses someone is on his or her own particular timetable, eventually the heaviest emotions of grief fade and lessen. Joy may always come with a pang, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Missing someone means you loved them, after all.

If you’re in the throes of intense sadness, perhaps the testimony of someone who was there not so long ago will give you hope. You won’t always feel the way you’re feeling. Over time, the weight begins to lift and the crushing weariness starts to dissipate.

Then, as my friend Linda explains, something wonderful happens: “Emerging from our deepest sorrows, we are able to hold open that door of desperately needed hope to broken, bewildered souls who’ve been yearning to know that there is a tomorrow.”

One way we can hold that door open is by sharing both the hard parts and the glimpses of joy we see unfolding around us. Linda does this beautifully, and I’m following her gentle example with some happy notes from the last several weeks.

• • •

Last Friday, the girls and I spent some time with my friend Debbie and her two miniature donkeys, Pepper and Patch. They were bigger than I expected, smaller than the girls expected, and just as sweet as Debbie said they were.

Plants from a friend or loved one are the best, in my opinion. Here we have hostas from my younger sister’s yard in Iowa, a hibiscus that descended from a bush growing in the field behind my oldest sister’s home in Kansas, and four o’clocks that originated from two tiny plants my mom gave me many years ago.

Speaking of my younger sister, it was a joy to spend time with her and her family, and also my oldest brother and his wife, on a recent trip to the Hawkeye State.

The trip to Iowa also introduced my daughter Lilly to her new best friend, Gus the Greater Swiss Mountain Dog.

It had been a while since Molly and I made Japanese dumplings, so the other day, we spent some time in the kitchen together. I’m the prep cook, she does the artistic work and we all enjoy the end result.

Finally, both girls have been working jobs with mostly afternoon and evening hours this summer, so family dinners have become increasingly rare. On a recent trip to the grocery store, I decided to make the next such occasion a celebration by choosing pints of ice cream for each one of us.

They sat in the freezer for a couple of weeks, until we were all home at the same time. The moral of the story: Memory making doesn’t have to be fancy, complicated or expensive. Sometimes giving everyone their own pint of ice cream does the trick just fine.

I hope these final days of summer find you cool(ish) and able to squeeze in a few moments of nature, a few scoops of ice cream (peanut butter cup, anyone?) and perhaps even a few days with loved ones you haven’t seen for a few years.

♥ Lois

P.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Recharge Wednesday, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.