Hope

Dear Hope,

Let's get together.  The sooner the better.

I seem to be a little short on you in some specific areas lately and I don't like it.

I'm trying to do the whole "remember" thing, because that can help put things into perspective for me and remind me that suckiness* usually ends at some point.

Remembering gives me hope.

But this is hard.

So, I'm remembering the time that I was laying in bed as a six-year-old after watching Bambi convinced that my Mom had died on her way home from a meeting because I knew she was later than she said she'd be.  Turns out she didn't and she wasn't.  Who knew that I was still ironing out my time-telling skills?

Or I'm remembering my first time on a roller coaster when my 8-year-old brain had no hope that the rickety wooden coaster car I was in would hold me in going down that big hill.  Turns out I was wrong and it did. (as an aside: the jury's still out on some roller coasters, especially mobile carnival ones ...). 

I'm trying to remember the number of times when a friendship or relationship seemed irreparable, because there had been too much hurt.  Turns out it wasn't.

So, I'm trying hard to exercise the work of remembering.  Of calling to mind the ways that God has brought me through.  Mmm, no I don't like that phrase, actually.  I think back to these few (somewhat lame, I know) examples and the plethora of others, and I realize that God didn't just bring me through - he made it new.  Maybe even better. 

Even though it seems easier (and perhaps more logical) to believe things like: "run now! avoid more pain!"  and "people don't change - you're kidding yourself!", I'm trying to remember that God doesn't necessarily do the easy or the logical.

But this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him."
The LORD is good to those who wait for (whose hope is in**) him, to the soul who seeks him.
Lamentations 3:21-25

So, here I am. Making a conscious decision to remember the times when I thought you were gone, but weren't. To wait for the Lord, because he is faithful and my source of hope.

Here's hoping,
Julie

*I don't like the work "suck" or any of its derivatives, but sometimes it just seems the most inappropriately appropriate.
**Different version, I forget which, but I like holding the two next to each other: reminds me that "hope" and "wait" are often related.

Wisconsin

Dear Wisconsin,

I'm going to try very hard to avoid negative stereotypes here, but you're not making it easy. 

I mean, the last three letters in your name do spell SIN.

Does this say anything about your character? (The word SANTA is an anagram for ... you guessed it: SATAN.)  *gasp!*

I digress....

I'm writing to appeal for some reconciliation before I return to you next week.  I'm guessing that my check for $200.50* will be an acceptable peace offering (memo line: "I LOVE WISCONSIN"). 

You see, I think we could be friends.  You're not unlike my current home state.  We're neighbors.  You have beautiful scenery and are  home to some folks I love.  And I hear that property taxes are a steal.  There's really no reason this couldn't work.

Except for your officers of the law.  Now, I was assured in the information pamphlet I received from the Wisconsin Department of Transportation, that your police officers absolutely do not engage in any sort of profiling when making traffic stops, but some of us west of the border find this a little hard to believe.  No no, I'm not talking racial or gender profiling, I'm talkin' license-plate profiling. 

That's right.  I said it.  I think you packercheeseheads take a particular dislike to those of us out of staters.  That's the only explanation I can find for why I received a "following to closely" ticket when I was in a line of 15 cars that were all following at the same distance. 

Hmmph.  I do not appreciated being pre-judged by my vehicle paraphernalia.  Please prove me wrong in future visits.

Love from MN,
Red Ford Focus

* Why the odd dollar amount??  I asked myself this same question and couldn't come up with an answer.  I'm sure here in Minnesota we only give tickets in full dollar amounts in increments of 5.  Take that Wisconsin.

Garden

Dear Garden,


I trust this won’t be the last letter I write to you as I have a number of different things to share (and photos). But today, I shall tell you why I like you:

-The opportunity to be outdoors. In nature, in the sun, in the rain.

-Your sweet smells. Walking into work past our (flourishing) vegetable gardens every morning is a highlight. I can’t really tell you exactly what the smell is – but it’s certainly alive. Nothing dead in there. Lots of growing.

-The excuse to get dirty. I’m not necessarily a big fan of not being clean, but there’s a small part of me that enjoys the fact that I don’t have to be clean (read: look cute, smell good) in the garden.

-You give me hope.

Really.

How a little, dry, dead-looking seed can somehow transform into a vibrant, green, living plant that produces fruit is beyond me. Every time I visit you and see something green peek out of the dirt, I think “No way! How’d that happen?”
 
And it gives me hope.
 
That if something dead and seemingly lifeless can be brought to life (and purposeful life at that!) then surely the same can be done with me. I mean, if God cares enough to bring a tiny tomato seed to fruit-bearing life, then he can certainly bring the dead inside of me into something vibrant, purposed, alive.  Right?
 
I could take this spiritual analogy a whole lot further, probably quoting some verses from John about pruning.  But I won't.
 
It's a miracle.  God can make a miracle out of me.  Perhaps he already has. 
 
And I really like garden tomatoes.
 
Sincerely,
Julie