I remember when my daily goal was just to get through the day without breaking. I woke up with low expectations and went to bed with even lower standards.
Surviving is what I did best.
What a depressing existence…
Little hope. Faith depleted.
Just waiting—with anticipation—for the next big blow to knock me off my feet, yet again.
I was lying on a hospital bed, wearing a hospital robe, and drinking water out of a hospital cup, when I realized that I had lost every once of hope I had. The technician asked if I wanted to know the sex of the baby I was carrying in my belly. Through tears I said, “no.” My husband and the tech looked at me with pity.
All I could do is cry…
Okay, yes I want to know. Then, I said No, no don’t tell me.
You see, I wanted a boy desperately. I had my beautiful baby girl already. And, after waiting 6 long years to try for my boy, I just wasn’t sure if I would get what I wanted. During the 6-year period between the birth of my daughter and the conception of the baby in belly, things had changed. Life was different.
I was still writing songs + taking care of my family + building a second business and encouraging others to keep on keeping on. But it was getting harder for me to keep on, going.
There were business deals gone bad + lawsuits + doctor visits + a negative diagnosis. Most of the things I planned, failed—some before they even started.
I was on auto pilot. I was going, doing, and getting stuff done.But secretly, I began to hope less, to expect less, to plan less, and to get less out of life.
The tech, the one that asked if I wanted to know the sex of my baby, just yelled out you’re having a boy!
All I could do is cry even more.
I cried for myself.
Until that visit to the hospital, I had no idea how far from faith I had strayed. I didn’t even realize I had given up. I stopped going for the big stuff. I did what I had to do. Nothing less. But certainly nothing more. It took that moment to shake me up. I was hopeless because I started to hope less. I was getting what I expected (which at that time was very little.)
Can you relate?
That day, I promised myself that I would never lose hope again.
The truth is: I had no real control over what the gender of my baby would be. The lesson wasn’t about getting what I wanted. What I really learned is that when everything seems hopeless, that is the time you need to hope the most.
Your hope is your confident desire. It is safe place for your faith to rest.
Once your hope is gone, your faith is sure to follow.
If you have been in survival mode, not producing much of anything, and feeling detached from your faith, I encourage you to get your hopes up.
Dream a little more. Remember the things your heart desires the most, and imagine them being absolutely possible.
When you’re feeling hopeless…hope more. And your faith—ultimately your life with follow.
I have no steps for you today. I just wanted you to know I‘ve been where you are. The only way to get to the other side is to get your hopes up again.