The Saturday of Easter weekend is known as Silent Saturday, the day in between the crucifixion on Friday and the resurrection on Sunday. On that first Easter weekend, no one knew or believed what was coming on Sunday, so Saturday was a day of silence and grief. We do already know what happened on that Sunday, so the Saturday in between is still a day of silence but also one of hope.
Hope... to trust in, wait for, look for, or desire something or someone; to expect something beneficial in the future... something that we all so desperately need as we live through the crisis of a pandemic.
I've been asking myself what hope looks like to me in the midst of all that we are living through right now. This could change tomorrow or next week, but here is what hope looks like to me right now.
On the one hand, it is reminding myself that:
- this crisis is not a surprise to God and He is not frantically trying to figure out a way to get us out of it now;
- God can and will take what the enemy intended for evil in this crisis and use it for good;
- God is already victorious and He is with me, which is greater than my fear or anxiety;
- this crisis will not last forever, it will end, and we will get through it;
- although the future is not going to look like the past, it doesn't mean that the future is going to be bad... we will come out of this stronger as individuals and as societies, and various aspects of our future lifestyles may just be a bit more healthy than in the past;
- on this particular day, I don't have to get through every future day of the entire crisis... I only need to focus on today and do what works for me to get through today;
- there is still much to be thankful for during this time... we're adding to our thankful board every day and it has really become a blessing to take a moment every day for each of us to add our reason for gratitude to it); and
- I have outlets when I'm having a tough day... I can go for a speed walk/jog in our neighborhood to raise my heart rate and burn off some of my frustration, I can call a friend or family member to talk, I can watch something online that will either lift my spirits or make me laugh out loud (like this, for example, among many others -- this is so funny!).
On the other hand, it is also sharing hope and kindness and grace with the people around me by:
- helping an elderly neighbor with their grocery shopping or their laundry or the document that they need to print (but don't have a printer) so that they don't need to worry about that one piece of their day anymore;
- smiling at (with my eyes, I guess, since my mouth is now hidden by a face mask) and talking to the stranger who helps me at the store or who I meet (from two meters away, of course) while trying to figure out the new process for buying ice cream at Baskin Robbins, because those people are just as much in this crisis and in need of kindness as I am;
- not expecting anything of my exhausted husband on his days off and letting him just sleep and rest so that he has the energy for another tiring and stressful week to come; and
- talking, texting, Facetiming (is that a verb) or praying with a friend so that she knows that she is not alone in her current reality and its struggles.
The past few weeks have shown me that hope also comes from:
- connecting with our church family on a weekly basis through the online church services and Zoom meetings;
- planning with Hal a great vacation that we could take this year without leaving Quebec;
- the kindness of our neighbour who makes tweeks to the face masks that she is sewing and shares new samples with us every couple of weeks;
- being able to have a telephone appointment with a caring doctor who was able to help me with my battle against insomnia and then having a prescription filled only hours later; and
- sharing relaxing and restful moments with my husband on his days off.
... and I'm sure that I could find so many other reasons for hope if I kept thinking about it.
Hal told me an amazing story of something inspiring and encouraging that happened at his work recently. There was a mistake in the pay cheque of one of Hal's co-workers (let's call him Steve... that's not his real name) and Steve was somehow not paid for an entire day of work... eight hours. Steve needed the money to pay his rent, but the mistake would not be corrected until the next pay period, which was two weeks away, and his rent was due soon. So, do you know what the store manager did when he learned of Steve's predicament? He walked across the street to the bank, withdrew some money, went back to the store and asked Steve if it would help him out until he received his next pay cheque. Seriously unbelievable! The store manager took money out of his own pocket and lent it to Steve, so that Steve could pay his rent. In that moment, hope for Steve was the kindness and generosity of his manager.
I found this definition of hope in a blog post by Dr. Judith Rich:
"For anyone who's ever felt like all was lost and the situation was hopeless, life feels pretty bleak. In a state of hopelessness, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. It is a dark, dense energy that sucks the life out of anyone who's ever been there. It is the energy of depression and despair. ... For the hopeless, hope is a match in a dark tunnel, a moment of light, just enough to reveal the path ahead and ultimately the way out. Hope is a flashbulb that lights up a room, revealing everything in it, and then the room goes black again, leaving an imprint in our memory of the hidden landscape. Hope gives a glimpse of possibility not seen in the darkness. ..."
Sometimes that glimpse of possibility lasts only a moment and sometimes it lasts longer, but the end result is the same either way. The much needed beauty of hope.
Sometimes that glimpse of possibility lasts only a moment and sometimes it lasts longer, but the end result is the same either way. The much needed beauty of hope.
In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic and everything that those two words represent to you, what does hope look like for you right now?
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