When we named our seven-year-old, Hope, I never thought that sometimes only speaking her name would wear me out.  That the word, Hope, would become so common to me that I might even forget what it really means.

She asked me when she was a little girl what her name meant.

I told her,

“Something good’s about to happen.”

Boiled down and simplified, this is what Hope is…the fact that in Faith, we know and trust that something good is always about to happen.

Because of Christ.  Of His promises.  Of Grace.

Hope Overused

At the time I needed something unique.  I didn’t want to be like everyone else naming their baby girls iterations of “Hannah” or “Katelyn” or “Madison”.  There is nothing wrong with those names, I just (selfishly perhaps) wanted my daughter to stand out from the multitude.

Not Ruth.
Not Charis.
Not Gracie.

I was pulling for all of these names at one point or another to name our baby girl who would come early in January of 2002.  None seemed right.

I know some parents wait until the baby is born to see which of the hat-full of names fits.  They look into her dark blue eyes and search for the name she was meant to have.  Sometimes they leave the hospital with “BABY _________________” in the name field.

Not us.
We knew from the 19-week ultrasound what she would be named.
Hope….

Read the rest of  “Hope Overused” over at (in)courage.  Click here to go!!

And if you are new to my site today, click here to read my whole story.

What does HOPE mean to you?

I’ve never been one to live in the “glory days” of high school.

I didn’t play any sports, and was only talented in studying, so I never got stuck in the glow of a life lived well once upon a time.  I had friends, but was never part of the popular crowd.  I had a “pretty face” but was always somewhat overweight (in a time when most high school girls weren’t).

High school was what it was and nothing more for me.  I had good days and bad days and mostly in between days. But I never once thought I was living in my “best days”.  I was embarrassed about the eighties that had just ended and cringed to think of myself as a junior higher with bad bangs and multiple zippers in my jeans. I did mathematical calculations in my head about the future, wondering how many years away I was from…anything else but now. I was only fifteen when I would fantasize about getting married in five years.  At 17 I thought I would arrive when I turned 25, a seemingly perfect age in my mind.

Having gotten married at 21 and then eventually reaching 25 and speeding right on past it, I am beginning to understand that every season in my life has been my “best days”.

Cold summer vacations in the mountains with my family when I was too young to venture off into the woods by myself (I felt like a tortured soul in need of open space to think and write my poetry).  These were my best days.

My grandfather dying when I was 9 and me not grieving properly (and still not understanding why).  These were my best days.

My new mothering hours, blind from sleeplessness and deaf from a screaming infant, those were my best days.

A marriage, completely destroyed and then stitched lovingly back together by my Savior’s hands.  Those were my best (and worst) days.

Today my days are filled with a second grader’s incessant questions about science and God and the universe and with her little sister’s leftover terrible-two tantrums (even though she’s three).  Smudgy fingerprints on my clean windows.  Cheerios fastened, glued, rooted to my kitchen tile.  A roving pile of clean laundry that is never really all folded: from my bed to the floor to the chair and back to the bed.  Sippy cups, fish crackers, half eaten grilled cheese sandwiches.  Cursing because I’ve stepped the arch of my foot on a mini lego in the dark.  These are my best days.

I understand now that I am always living in my best days.

Tragedy, sin, death, heartache equally paired with joy and peace — all of these are what makes up our lives.  God crafts each day for me, each season in my life with my best interest in mind.  My life, even if it is filled with difficulty, is at its peak of the best of the best because He has created me for today.

If He’s built today for me and it is full of heartache and stress, then I must (I have to) rest in knowing that it is the best thing for me.  It is my best day.

If I am always living in the day that God has created specifically for me, then the best days of my life follow me. I know that whenever I am, it is the best time.

The difference, however, between surviving through a terrific tragedy and allowing it to change me is only in the realization.  If I realize that now, today, this pain is for my good, the pain won’t go away, but the days, they will be the best ones of my life.

So glory days for me?  Not hardly.  But the best days, I’ve always had those.  And today, I’m living in them.

ARE YOU LIVING IN YOURS?