Amy L. Sullivan
New spiral notebooks, freshly painted rooms, and new life
I know a single mom who is a recovering addict.
Every day she rides a bus an hour and twenty-five minutes to a job she doesn’t like. After a long day working at a position she feels unqualified to perform, this mom returns to a house, which is not her own and her children’s homework, which has been left undone.
I want to tell this mom I am sorry about her crappy job. I want to say I feel bad that she ate a mini-bag of Doritos for lunch. I’d like to tell her the new math they teach in schools doesn’t make sense to me either.
But I don’t say any of it. With fierce authority, this mom tells me she has lived a life I can’t imagine. As she speaks, I look down and study a torn corner of a Snickers wrapper sitting by my foot.
Instead of complaining, this woman talks about new life. Her plans, her dreams, her hopes, and I listen and wonder where this woman’s faith comes from and why instead of being brittle, it flourishes.
New Life and New Hope
This is the time of the year when God whispers new life into everything. It’s when we see nature’s symphony of color began to erupt and when I am reminded of how much humans crave hope.
Hope. It is the reason I love a good, $.99 spiral notebook, freshly painted rooms, a thick, quiet snow, and planting seeds in Dixie cups. Hope is the reason New Year’s Eve makes me weepy, and I never pass on an opportunity to hold a newborn baby.
Hope is why I hold my breath as Jesus’ body is wrapped in linen and why I read the entire story of the crucifixion and not cry until I hear the tomb is empty. As the women arrive at Jesus’ tomb with spices and find the large stone at the entrance rolled away, my hope is confirmed.
He didn’t forget about us, his whiny, stubborn, unbelieving creations. He didn’t think our sins were too heavy. He decided we are worth it.
Jesus showed up.
Happy Easter, friends. Praying for you this weekend. Praying you have abundant reminders of new life, hope, and the promise of the resurrection.
This post is written as a part of the Share Your Story series on the theme of resurrection at The High Calling.
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Photo credits: Sunrise, hands.