His hand reached out for mine on top of the sheets. And we held on tight. That grip that says, “Please don’t let me go. If you let go I may fall.” He was on his knees. I lay my head on my pillow, wondering what happened to the now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep kinds of prayers.
When did life twist to need these hopeless prayers of crying out and pouring out and wringing out our hearts together in the dark? When did we first notice just how small we are?
His words got caught behind the lump in his throat. He lost his balance. He paused and pressed on, laying all of it down on a three hundred thread count altar. Our grip tightened.
I whispered ancient words, imprinted on my heart in deep red letters: suffering produces patience, patience produces character, and character produces hope. And hope does not disappoint us…
I know and believe the words to be true, but logic gets in the way every time. It causes me to hesitate. And I breathe fearful and disappointed words into the night: Hope is always about what isn’t, I say. It is always about what’s missing, I mutter.
We sink to our knees and whisper timid words that ache with barrenness, or emptiness, or grief because of what we’ve lost, I blame.
And then, weaving its way through my accusations, silently and gently squeezing in, just in time, Yet falls from Heaven and slips into place on this altar.
This word finds its way through a small space between our tightly clasped hands. It adds itself, completing and changing the meaning, filling our hearts with truth, and overflowing them with hope.
In that instant I say and know the truth: Hope is not about what isn’t. Hope is always about what isn’t yet.
We sink to our knees and whisper timid words because of what isn’t yet. In moments where we trudge through life between a weathered cross and a not-yet-empty tomb, it brings us to our knees.
It causes us to lay our quivering and undone hearts on makeshift altars in the night. When I stumble over disappointments in the dark, and feel swept away in hopelessness, even then it is hope that causes me to cry out to the One who is faithful, despite my chronic faithlessness.
Our situation hasn’t changed, but on our altar, we’ve shifted our grip. No longer holding on for dear life, together we hold fast to the One who gives life. We have put our hope, again, in Him. We send forth heavy sighs of hope for unknowns that are yet to be.
And though we don’t yet see it, our hands and hearts are open to receive this hope that does not disappoint.
ABOUT DEIDRA
Deidra is an East Coast girl living in an empty nest under a great expanse of sky in the American Midwest. She will forever be stunned and amazed by grace. Deidra and her husband have been married...
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
Deidra, Thank you for guest posting here and introducing us to your voice. I was swiftly drawn in and encouraged by your words.
YES! Wonderful writing. You said so much with so little here.
Thank you for sharing this.
wow, that is some amazing writing!! i love it. it’s hard to hold onto hope and i appreciate what you’ve shown us…the tiny word “yet”.
thank you!!
That was so very incouraging! Thank you. Holding onto hope is sometimes all we have—sometimes all we need. I loved the dance scene on your site.
Deidra you write from life and experience. You remind us that often our hope is what comes from walking with hopelessness, of feeling lost, of “hanging on”. We remember hope as we turn to our faith to say “please do not let me drown” and our hope opens wider as we realize we are never completely lost as long as we have our faith.
Those tiny words make SUCH a difference. Loved this!!
Your writing is so poetic — thank you!
So beautiful! Thank you for sharing this. Great peace have they which love the Lord… (From Psalm 105, I think…) comes to mind after reading this today. Blessings to you today, Angela
(correction on my verse I referenced above! Psalm 119:165)
Yet again you give voice to and remind us of the love and hope that surround us if only we will pause, listen and see. Thank you.
Anguishingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing a setting we can all relate to in our own struggles to grasp His Hope.
My bloggin’ buddy Deidra! You write so beautiful, and you God-given gift captivated me!
Aren’t you so glad for this thing called HOPE?!?
Where would we be without the hope that Christ gives.
Thanks so much!
Keep writing, keep blessing, keep being obedient. Prayin’ for your situation.
Oh Deidra,
Such power at that 300-thread-count altar …
At that altar, you called down the “Yet.” The world turns upside-down on that word, doesn’t it?
You’ve captured it beautifully.
You *shine* with resurrection power. Contineu to speak the “yet” into the darkest places.
Yes, you shine…
Deidra….
Your good words, His words, leave me with few words.
Just a place to lay my head down, and hope-pray with you. Oh, *yet* — yes!
His art in you captivates and I linger long, running hands along the truth-beauty.
Thank you, radiant friend….
All’s grace,
Ann
Deidra, you always encourage and inspire me with you beautiful words. Thanks for this word to carry with me today. YET. So small, yet, so big.
This is lovely. Thank you for sharing it. :)
Beautiful truth Deidra. I have found it to be so.
this is beautiful, Deidra. The writing and the message.
Serena
Hi Deidra…
As always, it is time well spent reading your posts…and you often lead me to prayerful moments.
I am also a mother of grown children.
…and YET, deep in my soul, I find I am still a child who needs an eternal Father…
Deidra, I truly enjoy reading you posts. You words truly touch the core of my heart and have such an impact. Thank you my friend for sharing your gift. xoxo
learning to listen, and to hear our prayers can be so powerful
taking time, making room, kneeling down and letting go –all good reminders in this busy thing called life.
pve
Amen and Amen!! Beautiful writing! Thank you so much for sharing!!
May I quote you on my Facebook status?
God knew I needed this today! I have been unemployed since February 19, 2009. God has provided times of temporary employment since then, but that permanent job hasn’t come. As my financial situation continues to become ever tighter, I start to lose hope, a little more each day. Thank you for the reminder!!
Powerful words…that meet me right where I am today. Thanks
Thank you for that simply but powerful word. In my own life, coming to terms with the death of a dream and laying it down on the alter of GOD, it’s sometimes easy to forget about hope (yet).
Oh HIS glorious hope, what a future to YET live and be lived! Deidra, I love your words and HIS words through you.
Wow! what a riveting piece and what beautiful writing. I can so identify with what you wrote as we are holding on to our “yet’. Only yesterday I was meditating on that portion of scripture.
Thank you for doing such a great job.
Blessings,
Vickie
Deidre, thanks for taking me, your reader, swiftly to the soul of the matter. I feel like I have been right there on my knees beside you. And we’ve all had moments like that, far too many in fact, when we felt helpless and wondered how we ever got to such a place. But how wonderful to get up from your knees with new resolve and a fresh dose of hope. HOPE. amen.
Beautiful Deidra – thank you.
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