Hope and the Passing of Time

Feelings and emotions are a very real, yet a very fickle thing. They often fluctuate more frequently than the tide of the ocean, and can range from peaceful, sunset serenity, to the cruelest fury that a storm can ravage on the wide open seas. When those emotions are raging strong, truth can sometimes be blurred. Sometimes the waves of a seemingly hopeless and endless tear-filled future can feel overwhelming, and that I'm drowning under the pain and fears that taunt relentlessly, day after day.

It's during those times that God's faithfulness is the most clearly shown. Whether it's through the timely call of a friend, a note in my e-mail inbox, a truth filled text, or simply time alone in the Word, God brings faith back to my heart. And did I mention hope?

Sometimes that very word has seemed to mock me. My heart wrestles with the painful question. "Hope in what?" A lifetime of remembered anniversaries; of memories that should of been; of aching arms; of the ever-present desire to watch my son grow up; all mixed with the terrifying fear of this continued, painful grieving process. What kind of hope is that? Death is not reversible. It snatches away what is most precious to you, and leaves you with a gaping hole that at times looks endless and incurable. It leaves you flat on your face so often, wondering what normal looks like, and how you're supposed to move forward.

I'm not trying to be morbid here - just real. It's what some of my days look like in my human weakness, and the reason I have to keep fleeing back to what God calls hope in His word. It's the rock I have to cling to when those emotions sweep away faith like the tide does the sand.

Hope says that God is a healer. People tell me that time helps too. It's the promise I have to cling to the most, because healing for the most part feels scary and undesirable right now. That may sound strange, but as much as I dislike the pain of life at this moment, it's what keep me feeling connected to my son. The passing of time pulls me farther and farther away from those eight months of carrying him close to my heart, of those last kicks, of those precious, but painful hours we had with him after his birth. It's the fear of forgetting.

Hope says that despite my conflicting and oftentimes contrasting emotions, there is a promise of renewed life, joy, peace, and ultimate healing. Healing in part here, and a finally joyous healing when that long-awaited for reunion with our Lord and all of our loved ones will happen

Hope looks toward eternity. It's the reminder that life is more than just the here and now. It's the heavenward pull of the heart when you have a treasure waiting there for you. It's one of the few reasons (right now) that I can honestly say thank-you to God for this trial. The things of this world do grow much dimmer in the face of losing something that really matters, and that is waiting for you in glory.

Hope finds rest, not in the understanding or enjoyment of circumstances, but in the acknowledgement and belief in the character of God. He's good, and He gives good gifts to His children. We don't like those gifts that hurt so much, but the reality is that they are part of life. God's Word promises that if we love Him and accept these trials as God intended, we will see the sweetness in them later.

Hope looks at that pile of dirt over Hudson's earthly resting place, and proclaims, "This is not the end." There is more than this temporary life of pain and suffering. I am living for something so much greater! It revels in that passing of time as one step closer to the eternity where we will finally get to know our little boy. 

These are truths I have to remind myself of on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. And honestly, sometimes others have to remind me of them when my faith is too weak. To point me back to the fact that it's the unseen things of eternity that matter, and that in all reality, the pain and trials of this life are a temporary thing, meant to change us into the image of Christ, and prepare us for an eternity with Him and a reuniting with those dear ones who have gone before...


  1. Andrea dear, my heart aches when I think of you and this deep valley of sorrow you are going through! I think of you often and keep praying that God's peace that passes all understanding will encompass, uphold and surround you every moment! love you, Esther

  2. Dear Andrea,
    I felt like I was reading my sister's blog as I read your post. She says some of the same things, I don't ever want to forget my little girl (and she doesn't want us to either) and she wonders about moving forward? God bless you abundantly as you work through all those hard questions. It is hard for you and hard for those of us who care about you. Take Care -Dorothy


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