As the year draws to a close, I am tired.
Physically, mentally, emotionally – I feel spent. Being pregnant and nursing and mothering is a requiring task. Adding the desire for a strong marriage, a cozy home, a creative job, and the dream of getting back into my skinny jeans means I must be intentional in everything. I don’t think it is a bad thing to be tired, but I do believe it is a result of the fallen state of our world. See, everything isn’t fine and perfect. This world we live in is hard and ugly, with only fleeting glimpses that it was meant to be something so much better, so much easier. Work became toilsome. Child-bearing became pain-filled. Marriage became difficult. (see Genesis 3:16-19)
But the word God keeps bringing me is HOPE.
First, I heard these lyrics on a dark, postpartum day:
When I cannot stand, I’ll fall on you. Jesus, you’re my hope and stay.
Then, I took a class about hope taught by my dear friend, Ellen. She unpacked the word for me.
Hope is expectation of good. confidence. inspecting. watching carefully. trust. strength.
The first Sunday of Advent was all about hope. I cling to hope, because I’m not fine. I need hope, because often my world is broken. I need hope, because relationships seem unsalvageable and deep hurts remain. I cling to hope, because I am tired and worn.
I’m glad deep down in my soul that this world isn’t all there is. It isn’t functioning now the way it was meant to. A baby was born so many years ago to redeem everything. I’ve never known such good news. I see the hope in the eyes of my babies, and this season I’m reveling in the reminder that God loves and cares for me and is making all things new.