Keeping My Hopes Pinned to the Heavens
Last Monday I wrote about “Getting Your Hopes Up.” And all week long, I thought about all the things I hope for and how they propel my life forward. But today, while the rain falls, my thoughts are consumed by a friend who is in what feels like a hopeless situation. And I’m mad, and I’m sad, at the realities of mortality that she’s having to face. And I’m frustrated by the fact that it feels hopeless to me to begin with. And I’m thinking, how could I be so cavalier and insensitive with my opinions on how we should all hope way up in the clouds when she is fighting for another day while her hopes of life and love and family are dimming? And I’m thinking, how do you have hope when it really does seem like a situation is hopeless?
But then I think, Krista. You know that nothing is hopeless. You know God watches over all. You know that life doesn’t end at death. And you know that families can be together forever. And you know that love is eternal. You know that.
But even though I know all that, I’m still mad. And I’m still sad. And I still cry. And I don’t know how to not be mad. And I don’t know how to not be sad. And I don’t know how to make the tears stop.
And so today, while I believe that Christ is the author and finisher of my faith, I also need Him to also be the author and finisher of my hope. He has to be. He. Has To. Be. Because I need my hopes for her, the ones that are quickly falling to the ground, to stay in the clouds. Way up in the clouds. And only He can keep them pinned to the heavens. And I need to be able to remember that, although our hopes might get interrupted for a minute–whether by life or by death–honest hopes are always fulfilled. Through Christ, they are all fulfilled.








Amen…just remember krista that all of those things that you are experiencing is part of the grieving process. (there are many reasons that we grieve) take heart…the lord loves us all :)
Mortality is such a roller coaster ride. A very dear friend of mine lost her husband last week to cancer. He was 36. I know how you feel. Thank you for putting it so eloquently.