All The Light We Can Not See
What does it look like to discover joy and hold on to hope amid all of *this*?
1 million miles.
That’s how far away hope can feel at times. I remember other seasons of life when hope seemed as alien as the stars in the night sky; more illusion than accessible reality. A fiction beyond what I was capable of seeing in those moments, times when life had beaten me down or broken my heart in ways I didn’t know I could shatter.
This is part of the human experience though, isn’t it?
At times we are full of hope, brimming with anticipation at the endless possibilities of the path we are on. But during others, hope feels as foreign as the celestial bodies — impossibly out of reach. The tension between these vastly different moments and learning to live well amid both is embedded in each of our stories and where we find ourselves all too often.
Because if you were to ask someone “How are you?”, often you’d get back an answer which reflects that current of life somewhere in the middle; neither overcome with hopelessness nor overflowing with abundant hope. Life along the center of this bell curve is an endless tug-of-war between the hopeful prospect of what is to come and utter despair.
There are moments when we move full-tilt into one extreme or the other. Periods…
