I work out most of my life’s problems when I take a walk with Jesus each morning. While the humidity hugs my skin and the song of the birds fills my ears, I talk about my problems with Jesus.
On this day, I was preparing to write a message called “Hold on to Hope.” But the problem was that I felt totally unequipped and unqualified to teach anyone about hope. I had not been a stellar example of holding on to hope myself. I needed someone to teach ME how to do it!
As I poured out my fears and concerns to Jesus, I pleaded for Him to help me, to show up, and to supernaturally give me the words. I entreated Him not to abandon me now.
“Jesus,” I begged, “please don’t leave me standing at the altar.”
Photo by Shardayyy Photography on Unsplash
I hung up the phone and hung my head between my shoulders. I stumbled my way through the kitchen sobbing uncontrollably. My daughter came up to me and embraced me in a hug. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
My father had just called to tell me that my beloved grandmother had died. This was a women that I spent many, many weekends with when I was growing up. She lived on a farm and I have many happy memories of being with her there.
I released my daughter from the hug and trudged along to tell my husband the bad news. I walked past my daughter’s 18 year old boyfriend, who was sitting on the couch. He looked up into my puffy, red eyes and spoke four powerful words that scream, “I love you.”