Love never stops hoping.

I have lost all hope.

I cannot enumerate all the ways I have stopped expecting what I’ve desired my heart. Certainly the most prominent one (as I face 40 in a year) is the hope that love would bloom into a less dry and thorny flower for me, that I’d experience what it was like to be fully valued humanly and femininely and not just sexually (when I was in the world) or spiritually (now that I am not). I also struggle with the wounds of financial instability (we’ve been a one income household many more years than we have not) and all the things I have not yet accomplished just trying to survive on teacher pay with two kids and intermittent employment from my spouse.

I can never tell these days (as I hover between complete overtaking by God and complete annihilation by my own mind) whether I am sad because I have lost hope in the thing I want so badly or if I am sad because I don’t have it. I think it is the former, because I’ve never had it and was never so forlorn before now. I guess my advancing age, my experiences, swallowing my needs, sacrificing things that didn’t need sacrificing–it has all come to a head, making me say to myself in rehearsal after rehearsal that “It’s never gonna happen for me.” Until I am now wallowing in the misery of all the ways I should have acted, should have decided, should have responded. Recriminations and regrets singing a duo of “You should have nevers” over and over again.

I sound hopeless, don’t I?

Certainly God is reminding me that nothing has been an accident; that even this lonely sorrowful longing has a purpose. I know that either I will be consumed totally or just enough to burn away the remaining crusts of my pain. Either way, it burns. And it burns because I don’t understand why this is happening to me.

I am a person who prefers to know the expected end. I teach, and in teaching I plan from the assessment that comes at the end. So all these tests of my already weak and wounded character buckle my knees, make me want to give up. Cuz I don’t know what God’s thoughts are, what the expected end is.

And I’ve given up hope because I feel like I am taking test I will never pass.

And I’ve given up hope because I don’t see the value in the road I’ve traveled.

And I’ve given up hope because I just see the consequences of the lessons but not the growth.

I have no hope that this will get better.

I have no hope that this can be salvaged.

I have no hope.

And God is forcing my hand here, because I am desperately trying to walk out this Godly love but it is so contingent upon my expectation–that what I am doing is worth it. I am fighting to force myself to see the worth from God’s perspective. Even as I myself am treated as unworthy–because the real expected end isn’t about me (as much as I’d like it to be).

It is about God’s glory.

So I am now praying that God give me my hope back, to lift my head. To even give me a dream to believe in again because all the ones I have had have withered and died like the plants I keep killing.

So I keep sitting.


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