I once believed that hope was fragile like an egg; easily broken and spilled out everywhere.

In time, I learned I had mistaken expectation for hope.

Hope held on when my expectations were broken open and proven false – time and again.

For a while, I thought hope was synonymous with dream; both rose up from deep within like tiny sparkly bubbles along the side of glass.

But dreams, like bubbles, can burst – unpredictable, while hope rose again and again despite all circumstances.

I packed hope away as a small and insignificant word; a talisman against negative thinking.

“Yah, I hope so.” “Yah sure, that is the hope.” “I hope it turns out.”

But even when the worst came to pass, when all was lost, hope remained and grew bigger than the loss.

Slowly, I am learning to know hope, to understand that it is the light found in darkness, it is the colour in the grey, it is tender tenacious life growing beneath the ruins.

It is the unseen promise going on forever.

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. –Romans 8:24-25

More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. –Romans 5:3-5

The #wholemama word this week is: HOPE   Follow me over to Overflow to read more stories from lovely #wholemama storytellers.

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