Frozen Hope
Photo by Mary Catherine Meirink February 16, 2024 Weldon Spring, MO
I have been half in and half out - waiting to hear the sounds of early bird songs amidst the hush of frozen snow. I think their beaks are frozen shut... I have yet to hear one. It is 6:22AM
That was my Facebook post this morning. February 17, 2024. I was laughing… yet deep within I wondered. Would they sing again?
What a relief when I stuck my head out the door after I posted that! Wouldn't you know it! The most beautiful songs were ringing through the branches! I realized how worried I had become. It sounds ridiculous in hind sight, but I briefly thought. Had their beaks frozen shut? Had they survived the harsh winter night? In other words. I lost some hope. (Yes. You can love God with all your heart and still lose hope.)
Where was hope initially? Oh! That’s easy! Hope was the joy I felt while I chose the best spot to wait for the sunrise over snowcapped trees and housetops. Hope was the anticipation of the first bird’s song. Hope was the delight of standing barefoot on the cold concrete, while defying the rule that one cannot stand outside in the frigid cold in early morning hours. Hope was the comfort of holding a warm cup of coffee, while my cheeks turned red from winter’s cold breath. Hope was standing and standing. and waiting and waiting. and looking and looking. until……..
My waiting got tired. My hope called it quits. I closed the door and walked away as I became anxious.
I care about the birds. I care about their song. I eagerly await most mornings to see how the dawn will announce the coming day, as it awakens the night. If I did not care, I would not hope.
Though my writing sounds and feels like I stood there for hours, it was actually only 10 or 15 minutes. That’s the thing about waiting, though. It often feels like… forever. That’s some of the stuff of hope. It is what we do in the waiting process. In this case, I had hope. I lost some hope. Then, I regained hope. Most importantly, the goodness of God kept on going even when I called it quits.
Yet! Even in hope lost, I found it still. How?
I voiced my concerns in community of Facebook where in seconds (literally) friends responded. (We need people.)
I re-read my words and listened to my heart honestly in the presence of the Lord. I admitted my worries that seemed stupid. My heart was racing and breathing was faster and shallow, because my hope was getting messed with. (Be honest in faith.)
I care about those birds. I need their songs within my soul. (Find ways to get needs met in healthy ways.)
The Holy Spirit brought to mind time after time when it seemed the birds might not sing that day, yet they did. I was able to borrow hope from all the times when I heard birds singing in those same branches before. (Call to mind former victories.)
Since faith is actually full of hope, I found myself jumping out my chair. In a grand collision of hope and faith, I walked to the deck door of my kitchen, and swung it open. Can you even believe it!!!
Countless songs were swirling among the branches in harmonies upon harmonies, like a gathering of choral groups filling the rafters of Powell Symphony Hall… except the symphonic hall today was the sunrise of deep purple stretching it’s arms side to side as yellows and oranges hovered above. Oh… not to mention snow capped trees and housetops… and one gratefully relieved soul of mine for hearing once again the song of hope revived.
Dear, Reader.
May your day be filled with hope in moments when hope seems gone.
May the Holy Spirit bring to your remembrance former victories to encourage your faith about the days ahead.
May the goodness of God draw you forward with eager anticipation that brings a smile to your face and a song to your heart!
Mary