What is hope to you?

Drenching his pillow with his tears, my middle child gave me the cold shoulder.  His buddies across the street were still having fun finishing the movie while he now lay in bed, all because we, his dad and I, were “mean.“

Even though I know tomorrow he’ll be bounding around excited because he gets to hit the skate park with his dad and the evening before will be quickly forgotten, his words still sting. I remind myself he’s only eight and logically I know he doesn’t fully understand why his dad and I make certain decisions. That helps me stay calm. Even so he rolls to the farthest side of his bed making a clear, silent announcement that he’d like me to leave the room. So I do and listen to him as I sit by myself in the kitchen.

I check in with Facebook and read a friend’s recent post “Random question - what comes to mind when you think of the word, ‘Hope’? First impressions?” My tired eyes read this at the same time heart-wrenching sobs are drifting from upstairs. My first instinct? An image of something more beautiful.

What do I hope for my little guy? *sigh* Something more beautiful. Again, he’s only eight and in light of the current tragedy in Japan, not getting to stay up late with your buddies pales grossly in comparison. But in his world, the sadness, the anguish, is authentic and deep. I know this because at each stage of my life I’ve lived the same emotions. Whatever it was it was going on in the only world I knew. The pain was deep and real.

His pain is real. There is pain in parenting, marriage, in singlehood, and in the work force. There is physical pain, mental pain, even intellectual pain if you’re a struggling learner. There is quick pain, pain that’s in it for the long haul, and pain even when you see the light at the end of the tunnel. There is pain quickly overcome, pain on a colossal scale, and pain so confounding you don’t even know where to file it. Pain is real and vivid to the person living it.

I confess my problems are truly minor even though I turn them into mountains. On a daily basis, something comes to mind making me aware of the innumerable blessings I do have: three healthy boys, no one battling cancer, food on the table, a roof over our heads. Primal, I know, but there is little truer than this.

Most of the time when I’m reminded of my blessings, I’m able to bounce back with joy in my heart. But, at times, like this night, I realize those reminders are at the expense of someone else’s pain. And I think to myself, I long for something more beautiful.

My friend went on to ask “something more beautiful than…?” For me, it’s something more beautiful than life as we know it here on earth. She went on to clarify “So "hope" is the anticipation of that new life?” Yes. Yes it is. This is why I believe in the promises of God. No, that’s not right. This is why I cling desperately to His promises. He promises a new heaven and earth without pain and sorrow. I desperately long a life without pain for everyone.

Then here came a man, Jesus, willing to die an atrocious death. There’s no disputing he committed no crime. Even historians agree on that fact. So why would anyone just do that? Yes, it may seem cliché but because Jesus did just that, I believe in all that seems foolish. I believe He is who He said, Son of God and our only way to this beautiful life.

Yes, for me hope is the anticipation of something more beautiful. For me something more beautiful than life as we know it here on earth. That hope is manifest through my faith in Jesus. I hope, hope, hope for that new world – a life more beautiful.

So what do you think of when you think of the word ‘hope’? First impressions?