Hope Is Strong

My husband and I were married forty years.  He passed in 2007.  His mother, age 90, was living with us, and I became her caregiver.  She died just shy of 97.

That season of my life was more difficult than any I'd faced before.  My faith in God, and the support of friends and family, was the glue that held me together when I felt sure I'd fall to pieces.

I've grown to understand that hope is as fragile as the wings of a butterfly.  It can be easily bruised by the fingerprints of bitterness and self-pity. But when nurtured with determination, and faith to thrive, those same wings can lift you high over any ocean filled with obstacles.

When grief, and the stress of caregiving, threatened to strangle me, I'd run to the swing that patiently waited for me on my farmhouse porch.  It was my special spot to cry, pray, let go, and remember.

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