Sometimes It’s Hard to Hope

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Some unrelenting realities walked into this week. Confusion. Pain. Sorrow. The poignant disbelief of grief.

And I  spent  many moments wishing for the time before – the time before knowing –   a time suddenly brighter, warmer, and easier than this darker day.

A young man died this week.

And although the grief didn’t belong to me it was shared by me and many others who can and do imagine the unimaginable, the impossible, and the irrevocable.

Our shared sadness gathered in crowded rooms where no one is at all sure what to say and every single possibility feels so completely wrong.

Because there are no words to comfort a mother who just lost her son.

A gilded gold harp leaned heavily on the shoulder of the young woman in the corner. She encouraged music from its strings,  bravely plucking one string after another, a heaven-like soloist in a roomful of grief and heartbreak for a life gone too soon and the family he left behind.

Sometimes it’s hard to hope.

But maybe hope exists in the holding of hands – mother to mother – and in the gathering of the grieving close into your arms.

Maybe hope comes to places like this and helps us all look for faith.

Our eyes lifted toward heaven.

~ for AJM

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