“You’re going to lose your colon. You might as well get used to the idea.”
There were no preliminaries. No handshake, no niceties. Not even a polite introduction. The pediatric gastroenterologist barely glanced at our fourteen-year-old son before flipping through his medical file.
“Medications aren’t working. Treatments aren’t helping. You’re one sick kid and you’re out of options.”
With military-like precision, the tall, tanned, and fashionably dressed physician rattled off orders to the wide-eyed assistant who stood nearby.
This man—the doctor—had yet to say one word to me or my husband.
Not only had he summed up our child’s grim prognosis in just under a minute, but he’d effectively crushed any and all hope in less time than it took to boil an egg.
We drove three hours for a thirty-second summary—a rote synopsis he’d probably spouted thousands of times to thousands of patients. All children.
Shame on him!
Shame on him for his lack of compassion. Sensitivity. Heart. And yes—hope.
Inside, my mama’s blood boiled.
Of course, we knew the situation was bleak. Of course, we knew the realities of what our child faced.
We realized we were on a collision course with time.
What our family hoped, however, was that this physician would offer encouragement to a frightened youngster whose life was about to drastically change.
This particular physician offered none of that. (We never returned.)
Thank God, our son’s story didn’t end there. This was just a hiccup (albeit a painful one) along our life journey. (You can read more here.)
So, why do I share this with you now?
Well—because I decided from that day on I would make it my mission to encourage.
To infuse hope.
To help you keep the faith when the truly awful stuff happens.
(And please… *Disclaimer* I’m not an expert. If you’re struggling with depression, please seek medical advice. This post is intended to uplift and encourage. It’s not a Band-Aid or substitute for professional treatment.)
Whatever path you’re on today—wherever your journey’s taking you—please know hope is a constant.
It’s why we believe when it doesn’t make sense.
It baffles experts.
It refutes logic.
It defies statistics.
We can’t fathom it, explain it, or rubber stamp it.
Here are 20 reasons why you should throw open your windows to welcome it!
1. With hope, what do you have to lose? Is the other alternative better?
2. Hope thinks beyond the tangible. Impossible seems probable.
3. Hope transcends what if to stay tuned! Expectancy sends doubt packing.
4. Hope prompts (positive) change. When we focus on the good, the bad takes a back seat.
5. Hope prepares us for battle. The here-and-now is hard, but hope gives us courage to press on.
6. Hope builds our spiritual muscles. We don’t have to be bodybuilders.
7. Hope bolsters our confidence. When we look forward, yesterday is relative.
8. Hope is contagious. There’s no cure for it!
9. Hope casts out fear. (It’s true.) It’s anxiety’s nemesis.
10. Hope propels us forward. It’s the only direction that really matters.
11. Hope enhances our countenance. Inside and out.
12. Hope restores our faith. The two work in tandem.
13. Hope comforts. More reason to pay it forward.
14. Hope colors a new picture. It paints peace in the midst of pain.
15. Hope rehabilitates the hardened heart. And grants new beginnings.
16. Hope crashes the party. It kicks doubt to the curb.
17. Hope shuns the darkness. It looks toward the light.
18. Hope counts its blessings. And remembers anything is possible.
19. Hope seeks opportunity. It welcomes new seasons.
20. Hope matures us. It grows us where God wants us to be.
Today if you’re tapped out and worn to a frazzle, think about all the reasons you have to hope.
Throw open your windows and grab hope by the coattail.
Pass it on, but never surrender your own.
I’D LOVE IT IF YOU SHARED
Tapped out and worn to a frazzle? It’s time for a summer breeze!
If you’ve lost this, here are 20 reasons to open your windows.
Have you ever lost hope?
What made you keep going?
If you have a specific prayer need, I’d like to pray for you. Just drop me an e-mail at my contact page. I won’t share your request unless you ask me to put your name on a private prayer chain.
Love ya in Jesus, friend!