🌿 Hope: Even Still

When it’s too tender to hope, but you do it anyway.

(Thank you for your grace, as this is popping into your inbox a few hours later than usual this Sunday morning. To be honest, I’ve been struggling to catch my breath. Family demands have been intense lately, and so has my writing work. It’s easy to feel like I’m dropping the ball everywhere. I recently read a reminder that some balls are made of glass and some are made of plastic—and that the key is knowing which ones will shatter and which ones will bounce.

There have been some glass ones I didn’t want to break.

This past week held my final spiritual direction course paper, editorial deadlines, an (in)courage article, two weeks of devotional content for an exciting new project, my eldest’s first high school baseball game, the last day of school for our elementary kiddos, four middle school baseball games, our 17th anniversary, my in-laws’ 50th anniversary celebration, and—of course—a looming book deadline. All good things. But still, there’s only one of me. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t felt overwhelmed. I’m trying to get better at letting myself breathe, even here.

Thank you for being part of this community. I know you get it. Just know I’m never writing from a high tower, saying that I’ve figured it out. I’m right in the mess with you. We need each other!)

Hope when it’s Hard

My nine-year-old daughter took her first unassisted steps this spring.

It’s an incredible thing to get to bear witness to the impossible.

Eliza has Down syndrome and had debilitating seizures called infantile spasms when she was a baby, causing injury to her brain and leading to significant cognitive and physical developmental delays.

As she grew further and further from milestones—highlighted by our son, who is just four months younger—I began to stop praying for her to do things like crawl, or say “Mama,” or hold a bottle, or play with a toy.

I didn’t stop praying for her. I just stopped praying for what she might do.

I worked hard to make peace with celebrating Eliza for exactly who she is, not who she could become. We kept showing up to physical therapy and occupational therapy, and when the needle barely moved, my heart hardened a little more to the possibility of hope.

Little by little, I’m learning (however imperfectly) to embrace a posture that’s beyond striving and beyond giving up.

When Eliza started elementary school, her one-on-one para told us it was her goal for Eliza to be walking independently by fifth grade. I smiled. I nodded. But if I were completely honest, I didn’t believe it was possible.

When my husband took Eliza to her new physical therapist, he told her that our goal was for her to walk. And instead of gently lowering his expectations, as others had before, she nodded, wrote it down in her file, and said, “Let’s get started.”

We don’t turn to cynicism because we’re not tender. We turn to it because we are.

For more than three years, they believed in Eliza. They worked with her first on standing with support in her gait trainer. Then, slowly, her little legs began moving in her little AFO braces. Then, she moved to walking with one hand held. Then a band. Then nothing at all.

This week, she walked out of school unassisted, right into my arms.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
—Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Borrow this Prayer

from Every Season Sacred

O God, awaken us from our slumber.

Renew in us the ability to see the miracles surrounding us.

Restore in us the trust that spring will come.

Refresh in us the strength we need for the day

As we hold out hope for tomorrow.

We give You every dark wondering we hold and ask that

You would breathe new life into what is bare.

Let us feel You in our scars.

Help us to remember that You are compassionate

And that You are near.

We believe, Jesus.

Help us in our unbelief.

Amen.

Reading Guide

The free June 2025 Reading Guide offers timely prayers, reflections, and soul-tending practices from Every Season Sacred and To Light Their Way (both on sale!) to help you stay grounded in grace as you care for others—and yourself.

June 2025 Reading Guide

203KB ∙ PDF file

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Download

Download the free PDF to print or save on your phone and carry it with you.

Huge thanks again to Kara for assembling this beautiful resource for us.

Breath Prayer

Monday:
INHALE: When hope is hard