By Meg Morrison
Last night, one of my very good friends Claire, who lives in Spokane, Washington, FaceTimed me out of the blue and said, “I just need a good sad girl/hopeful girl chat,” and I knew exactly what she meant. Claire and I joke a lot about being “sad girls,” girls that listen to sad music on purpose, love overcast days, and Halloween.
One day when I was living in Spokane back in October, a time where it was actually difficult to be there because I didn’t have a community yet, Claire called me and said, “Let’s go on a drive.” It was of course an overcast day and we played very moody music as we traveled around Spokane, not a specific destination in mind. We ended up at a park that was Claire’s favorite place to go and stood along the cliffsides and looked out over the valley and the changing leaves. It was breathtaking. That night I had bought tickets to go to a concert for a very moody, sad artist who I love and I went all by myself.
That day sticks out in my mind so clearly. It was a day where I felt hopeful of the future. Everything was overcast and grey, but Claire still called me. Everything was gloomy and sad, but I was still able to witness beauty. I went to a concert by myself and felt known because the lyrics that Lucy Dacus and Liza Anne were singing were true to my life.
I think oftentimes hope encompasses the small things that urge you to continue on. Sometimes you’re lucky and hope encompasses the big moments, but most of the time, it is small. It is the little candlelight saying, “Come on, follow me, we still have places to go, music to listen to, people to love.” Hope just asks that you would be present and that you would try.
I really think that’s all God has said to me this year, “Please be present, please try, because if you don’t, you’ll miss out on the little hopeful moments that you love about life.”
So last night, Claire and I had a sad girl/hopeful girl chat about what was coming for us in the future. We shared dreams and worries and small moments that kept us going. We were present and trying, and that is all that hope asks of me.
Creator of hope,
Would you make space for me to see the moments that remind me of goodness?
Would you make space for me to see the moments that remind me of peace and wholeness?
It has not been an easy year, but you are still here, you still call me, you still take me on drives because you love me.
Thank you, that even though I sometimes do not believe that hope is present, you believe it and hold it for me and you have others in my life that believe it and hold it for me as well.