A Living Hope

Yes, of course, I have lots of Easter pictures I will share. You know I have to do that. But it won't be tonight.

Tonight, as I head to bed at the end of Easter, I am reminded of hope.

God knows (literally) we need it.

I remember as a child hearing older people say that they couldn't wait to go to heaven one day. I also remember shuddering, though I was a believer, because so much of my life was ahead of me. I wanted to be married, to have children, to live a full life.

Now that I am older, I still (hopefully) have some life left to live.

But I also now understand where those people were coming from.

As I have gotten older, I realize what a fallen world we live in.

I also see more hurt, more agony, more pain each day of my life.

Marriages broken.

Children pushed aside.

Jobs lost.

Cancer. Oh, how I hate cancer.

Tragic accidents.

Loss of family.

Loss of friends.

Earthquakes.

Tsunamis.

Fires.

Crime.

Tornadoes.

Hurricanes.

The list goes on and on.

I find myself often weighted down with the worries of the world. Every time I sign onto e-mail or Facebook and find one more tragedy, one more need to pray for, my heart is so heavy. And I find myself longing for a new home. A heavenly home. The one without tears.

This year, especially after the difficulties of the last month with a loss of a co-worker, Easter means something more to me than it has ever meant before.

Hope.

A Living Hope.

I find a hope in Christ I cannot find in others.

Others will fail me.

Christ never will.

Though the world looks dark (and it truly does right now as we continue with our third day of rain I believe), there is a hope.

God is still there.

When we were at the funeral last Saturday, it was a sad time. There were moments I felt like the tears would flow endlessly if I let them (which I typically won't...). But even then, my heart was not broken. Oh, it hurt alot. But it was not completely broken.

Why?

That hope.

I had hope until the moment I learned that she was gone that C. would recover, that she would be healed.

And she was.

Not necessarily the way I wanted.

But she was.

And now I have the hope of reuniting with her as well as other friends and family in heaven one day.

It will be glorious.

Amazing.

Perfect.

And then there will be no more tears. No more hurt. No more pain.

Thankful today for that hope.

More soon,
Reba