Being hopeful sits “next door” to being successful. . .

Feeling hopeless about a situation in your life makes all forward movement seem impossible.  It’s not an accident that we have people around us who can share our sorrows and express hope for us when our own is depleted.  Our lives are quite intentional, aren’t they?  As has been said by thousands of people, nothing is happening accidentally. When one of us is down, another person appears who can show us the rainbow that’s hidden from our view.  She didn’t appear haphazardly.  She had an assignment.  And you are fulfilling that “assignment” on occasion too for some one else.

I like believing in angels, both ones wearing skin and ones “from the other side.”  The nudging we get when it’s time to give up a worn out idea just can’t be ignored.  We might not let the idea go willingly but “our messenger” persists until we acknowledge the nudge.  Instead of fighting it, seeing it as the inspiration to welcome the new opportunities that are wearing our name, makes imminent sense.  We aren’t passing through this experience willy-nilly.  We have guides.  We have assignments.  We have others who need our presence as way showers too.

Knowing that we are never alone with any situation is reason for having hope.  Nothing will ever be beyond our capabilities because so much help surrounds us.  Much of it we can’t see and we often ignore the signs that are always there.  But the people who wander into our gatherings, large or small, have been invited.  Always.  What an awesome awareness.  We don’t always appreciate the “wanderers.”  That’s okay. They don’t need our appreciation to do their work.

It reminds me of an “angel” who came to my rescue nearly thirty seven years ago.  Her name was Pat.  I was closer to suicide than I’d ever been, and I had flirted with the idea hundreds of times since childhood.  I had even laid what I needed out on the kitchen table.  And then a stranger knocked at the door, interrupting my plans.  It was an insistent knock.  Reluctantly, I opened the door and as Pat entered, my world changed. The details of this experience aren’t what’s important here but what is crucial is that I didn’t know her.  Even though we had made an appointment to talk, proof that she shared with me from her calendar, I had no knowledge of having ever met her.

After a short time together, Pat left and my world had shifted.  She was the symbol of hope that had died in my life.  What she shared with me about the hopeless state I was in had the ring of truth to it.  I knew from the story she shared that God was waiting for me to finish the work I had been called to do.  Pat was my bridge to the other side of the dark abyss.  I never saw her again.  All that I have done since that fateful day is owing to her rescue.  She ignited hope in me where a void had been.  I have considered it part of my work to try to pass on hope to others ever since.

 

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