This is both an easy and a hard one for me. I’ve always been a pretty optimistic person. I’ve always held out hope. My childhood was a bit of a mess – alcoholic father, alcoholic older brother with drug problems, a mother with undiagnosed depression and anxiety. My older sister was a lifesaver, but she couldn’t be there all the time. But, I never felt hopeless. I always had hopes for the future and support enough to reach for it. At times, I did things on impulse that didn’t really serve my future well (still doing that to this day at times), but I always felt like I was protected from the worst. I felt God in my life often. I felt that even if my day-to-day life was rough at times, things were going to be okay somehow. And they were. There was always rough spots and low valleys to navigate, but I never felt like I couldn’t see the light at the other side.
Eight years ago almost to the day, I was bringing home my baby from the children’s hospital where she had spent most of her life to that date. She had some other child’s heart beating in her chest and we were bringing her to “home” to a place we’d never lived (we had been living in the Ronald McDonald House for months and had packed up our home anticipating a much longer stay than that). But, when I see the picture of my husband and I, standing over the crib we had to borrow from a friend because my DD had come almost two months early. And I can see hope in those faces.
And you know what…things are okay. There are rough spots sure. There have been low valleys to navigate and dark tunnels to get through, but the light is always there. God is always shining the light of hope and that light sees me through.