To live in hope


Some say “Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.” I’ve never been fond of that phrase, although I am guilty of having repeated it on more than one occasion. We all know, somewhere in the recesses of our mind, that the worst can, and sometimes does, happen. But should we actively prepare for it to happen? I don’t think so because if we do that, it will taint the hope, restraining hope’s ability to lift our spirit.

So, to live in hope.

Today I hope that by the end of this week, when Brendan Bjorn goes for a couple of nights respite, his pressure sore will once again be healed and he can get out of his bed to enjoy the world around him. He has, once again, been bedridden since 26 October, except for necessary trips to the doctor. I live in hope it heals well and heals quickly.

While Brendan is in respite, I am going to take a break. It will be much needed time to relax and hopefully clear my mind of those worries that come with “preparing for the worst.” Declan will be staying with friends, so it will just be me on my own. Maybe while I am out there walking the greenway along the shoreline or on a mountain trail, I will find even more hope to hold on to. 

Sunday will find me and Brendan overnight in hospital as he undergoes a sleep study and assessment for his upcoming spinal fusion. While I live in hope this operation will bring to him relief and improved overall health, that hope is indeed laced with fear – maybe even terror – in the knowledge that his fragile body will be facing its toughest challenge to date. I live in hope, despite that knowledge, because I must. 

So, to live in hope. 

Hope that the new wheelchair accessible van being delivered this very afternoon will take us safely on many happy family outings, creating lifelong memories the entire way.

Hope that we will soon find a house to call our own home; one where we will be warm and safe and contently filling it with love.

Hope in a long-awaited meeting in the coming weeks when the person with that voice on the other end of the phone – the voice who makes these previously sleeping butterflies inside of me fly with reckless abandon – will instead actually be sitting right beside me.

Hope that laughter flourishes, fears subside, and all that can be beautiful in life is allowed to blossom.

Hope that I can forget all about preparing for the worst, at least for awhile…at least long enough to taste the sweetness that is genuinely living in hope. 



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