Esperanza

"What's your favorite word in Spanish?"
  Dan asks weird questions sometimes.
 "Esperanza," I answered without hesitation.
   I love the sound of the word.  I love the meaning of the word.  HOPE.  The longing or desire for something accompanied by the belief in the possibility of it's occurrence.
   As much as I love the word and the idea of hope, it's a strength that's gotten flabby with age.  Reality has caused the lines of cynicism to replace that bright eyed I'm-going-to-change the world spirit.  I've caught myself believing that nothing ever really changes.  No matter how many stars my dish washer had in the reviews, it will eventually break again.  Oh wait-it did already!  A parenting strategy might work for a few nights but eventually my kids' vices will be back and I'll always forget and slump back into empty threats and bargaining.  Friends and family with addiction will forever fight those demons and often loose.  Again and again and again.  There will always be more bad news and every one of those mass shootings will be immediately followed by facebook brawls over more or less guns that drowned out any cries of mutual grief.  Hope seems naive.
    But for some reason it's been a word that's been chasing me this Advent season.
    It started with the Hope Kids' Christmas party.  Hope Kids is a faith based organization that helps provide donated event tickets, activities and encouragement to families of children with a life threatening illness such as cancer, cystic fibrosis or an organ transplant.  Last year we missed the annual Christmas event but after seeing the pictures on facebook later I decided this year we would make it a priority.  It definitely lived up to the hype.

They decorated with a frozen flare that could've passed for a wedding banquet.  Then there was snow, balloon animals, fire truck rides, characters everywhere, cookie decorating and a variety of games and crafts.  There were presents and delicious holiday food.  And there were families I'd never trade places with.  Kiddos with wheelchairs, feeding tubes, and masks.  Watching the kids chasing Batman with snowballs, I thought of the irony of the title "Hope Kids".  It's hard to see a child with an incurable disease and not struggle with hope.  But here were these families, brave enough to believe and to celebrate.  To believe that there is always something to smile and laugh about and be grateful for.

   Saturday night we got together with my husband's parents, siblings and nieces for caroling and our gift exchange.  While moving between several houses we'd chosen I thought about how these things we do like this at the holidays-buying Angel tree gifts, donating socks for the homeless, taking cookies to our neighbor or caroling to those who are shut in or going through a rough holiday-these things are really all about igniting hope.  They're about saying that we know this life and this world feels hopeless but Jesus said, "Take heart, I have overcome the world".
    With these sentiments still resounding in my heart when we ended our singing, I opened the gift my sister-in-law, Sarah, had given me.  A journal.  And on it these words stared up at me, "We have this Hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure" (Hebrews 4:19).  The word hope jumped out immediately in bold, capitol letters.  HOPE.  Well played, God.  Well played.
    Then there were the songs, the sermons and the family devotionals of the season.  Each of them seemed to acknowledge that here and now can feel dark and endless.  But our hope is bigger than the here and now.  In church Sunday, my kids participated in the children's Christmas program with the central theme being hope.  After the children sang "Go Light Your World" our pastor talked about committing to taking hope into our communities.
     This world is full of darkness but it's also full of people holding candles of hope out.  Sometimes, it's tangible, like when my sweet young friend who has battled stage 3 melanoma as an early adolescent was granted her life long wish to own a horse.  Like when my friend, Lynne gathered last minute gifts for a broke single mom or my friend Lisa organized a holiday meal and hope bags of toiletries for hundreds of Phoenix homeless people.  Or, when my friend Brianna showed up with a tray of enchiladas following my D and C after Eleanor died.  Jesus with skin on telling us that there will be happiness again.  But there's also hope that transcends all the bad things this world can throw at us.  I'm not just pessimistic believing that dish washers will break down and my kid might never willingly put socks on before he slides on his Spiderman shoes.  And cancer might never really go away and the 10 o'clock news might keep us awake at night.  Those things aren't unreasonable.  They might all happen.  But, our hope is Heaven.  Our hope is eternal.  Jesus came to earth and He is coming again.  That is what advent and Christmas is really all about.  Esperanza.

"There is Always Hope" by Banksy