Refuge of Grace

I don’t know about you, but sometimes hope bubbles out of me and other days hope hangs elusively—just out of reach. Three years ago, I came close to losing hope. With the passing of each day, hope brightens, like rain easing after a downpour. After almost losing hope, its rediscovery is precious, something safely clasped. For me, hope resurfaced through pages of God’s Word, prayers with my husband, conversations with precious friends and family, the eyes of my children, and the beautifully crafted words of a good story.

Last summer, I delighted in books on long car rides, the beach with sand scratching the pages, at bedtime snuggled in pajamas, and in our backyard of chirping crickets. I adventured to Narnia, the Swiss Alps, World War II, and even a small town for a murder mystery. No matter the plot, stories captivate—tugging at our hearts, bringing tears to our eyes, and sparking our creativity.

One of my favorites, A Place to Hang the Moon by Kate Albus, is one I will tuck away to share with my kids soon. In this beautiful story, three orphans are in search of their forever home. Through heartbreak and tears, they persevere; often finding the will to endure through the pages of classic books and as many children do, they crave bedtime stories.

On one of the final pages, Albus writes of the perfectly selected bedtime story, “…it set them on the path to dreams that felt rather like hope.” Of all the books I’ve enjoyed over the last year, my favorites are hope-laced ones, where despite tragedy and difficulties, the characters are propelled forward by hope.

With a heartbeat of hope, I lean in, hang on, see the best, and yearn for more. If you are anything like me though, as the days tick by, I lose sight of this fresh outlook. Hope slowly gets buried under worries, fears, anxieties, busyness, and unmet expectations. Daily routines lose their crispness and monotony remains, like a new pair of shoes forgotten in a closet corner. And I’ll be honest, when those days come, I need some fresh hope.

As much as I love a beautifully-crafted story, the hope found in its pages gives us a taste for a more decadent hope. And while a good story reminds us to hope, these stories are just raindrops wetting our faces, as we look heavenward, to the true source of hope—where Jesus is King and reigns forever. Now, this is a hope to savor.

So this summer, as I lather sunscreen, kiss foreheads, pack picnic lunches, lose my patience, try again, and pray over little souls, I desire hope to be the hymn of my soul. I hope you’ll join me—let’s watch hope blossom in our lives and dreams.