I vividly remember how her sharp, critical words cut deep into my heart. First, my insecurities leapt to mind. Does she see a failing that others are too nice to mention? Am I in over my head in this situation? Am I not smart enough, hard working enough, capable enough? Does everyone see me as a hopeless catastrophe, just stumbling along without a clue? Clearly, my peace was interrupted.

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I was in a theater production a couple years ago. I played Sawyer from A Miracle on 34th Street. Sawyer is the horrible, doubtful, HR guy from Macy’s looking to commit Kris Kringle. He’s kind of a slimy guy. I imagine, if he has a Christmas tree at all, there aren’t gifts under it and that he’s just “riding out” the Christmas season. I imagine he can’t wait for things to go back to normal. I imagine there is very little imagination left in him, and imagination is so intricately connected to hope. To be able to envision a better tomorrow despite the current situation requires imagination.

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There are days when I wrestle with whether to pursue Advent meditation or Advent medication. In the wrestling, I am learning that my experience of hope is either enhanced or diminished, contingent on what it is I’m observing or listening to.

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The other day, I got the pictures that we took with my family back when I first found out I was pregnant. We were holding a onesie; we had planned to use them to make our announcement. “We were happy then. Such a distant memory.” My husband is grieving too. In the midst of this, I’m asking myself not only where hope went, but what is it in the first place? I can only say that I’m not really sure. I wish I knew, but when hope is shattered, it makes it a lot more difficult to see the light shining in the darkness.

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On November 13, 2013, following a quiet morning at church, we drove home amidst tornado sirens, storm chasers, and texts from family to be safe. We had no idea we were trailing a tornado that had just demolished our first home.

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For most of my life, hope was too small. I had plenty of hopes, but they mostly involved avoiding hard things and keeping myself happy. I saw God’s plan for me as a series of specific choices I had to navigate. Choosing poorly meant heartache, and choosing wisely meant success, contentment and big piles of God’s blessings, whatever they might be.

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