When The Clouds Are Grey…


The hope of a new life, the fantasy of a new light, the joy of a new beginning—which suddenly seems to fade away. We hope . . . but sometimes we wonder why hope doesn’t seem to come around the way we want it to.

We wait and pray and hold on so tight to what we want. Then we suddenly feel the emptiness of our grip when what we hold on to so tightly slips away through our fingers, like a child who is trying to hold on to the ocean.

It hurts.

Then we try to grab it again, and still it slips away through such tightly closed fingers. Then we wonder why.


Why did we hope? Why do we hope?

I realized that the real question is this: In whom is our hope?

I’ve hoped for so many things in my life; anticipated so many things; believed for so many things . . .

Yet I’ve felt betrayed, like a child whose lollipop has fallen in the sand, and there seems to be no good reason why she can’t have it again.

I hurt . . . I’m hurting . . .

Then someone told me to count my blessings. An unwelcome suggestion when I was hurting so much. What blessings? What blessings could I count when I didn’t get what I wanted?

But I tried to. And I thought back at my life but still……. I remember most of the things I had held on to so tightly and had seemingly lost in my tight grip.

Then I realized . . .

When my heart was so broken from a relationship I held on to so tightly, and I thought I was going to lose my mind, I found strength.

When I felt deprived from a job I was so qualified for, and I thought I was never going to try again, I found courage.

When I thought I was so alone and that I was going to be miserable and depressed, I found my family.

And when I thought all hope was lost, I found God.

Because . . .

In losing that relationship, I found true love.

In losing that job, I found true worth.

In losing acquaintances, I found the care of my family.

And in losing hope, I found faith in God.

I’ve come to see that the grey clouds will come . . . and it will hurt. And we will cry and ask some questions. But the grey clouds have come so that we might see the rain. The rain of love, the rain of joy, the rain of courage—but most especially the rain of hope.

It’s not what we hope for or how we hope that makes the difference. It’s in choosing the scriptwriter of our lives.

Is it you who writes the chapters of your life, or is it the One who gave you this life?

Then I ask again . . .

In whom do you hope?


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