standing with hope

By Molly Klima

"Oh, these are the days, these are the days
These are the days we've been dreamin' of
So don't look away 'cause these are the days
These are the days, better get 'em while they come
Singing a song of paradise
Believing the good news is alive
This is the great jubilation
This is what we came for, what He came for"
-Lauren Daigle "These are the days"

Ever look around and think, “These are the days. This is what I prayed for?”

Life is funny right now. Any family gathering, whether my grandma would typically be there or not, causes my heart to ache something fierce. It keeps me on the verge of tears for days. I don’t like it but I don’t ignore it. I could pretend everything is okay, or I could be honest. I’ll choose honesty. I know that God is not dishonored by my grief or struggle and Jesus himself wept, knowing He’d raise his friend from the dead. He can handle my weeping, too.

Even on those days, I can see God’s hands. I can be reminded of Jesus’ healing power. I’m reminded that great sadness and joy can co-exist. I’ll look at my kids and realize “This is what we prayed for.”

When we watch them apologize to each other on their own. I see it when they’re asking hard questions about our faith. When they include our loved ones and gratitude in their prayers. It’s not that the struggle of grief or parenting is over, it’s just that I’m reminded Jesus keeps working when I can’t see it or feel it. Faith is not a feeling. This is all temporary.

Hebrews 11:1, 13 says, 1 "Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see....13 "All these people died still believing what God had promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it. They agreed that they were foreigners and nomads here on the earth."

I’ve spent more time in Neuro ICU this year than I have my whole life combined. At one bedside I was praying for one of my best friends, Shauna, as she laid there on life support, to wake up. I prayed for her to talk, to walk and hug her husband and children again. I was begging for more time watching basketball and her being able to pour into the lives of young female athletes around her.

It’s been less than two months and I get to watch her walk with a cane at 46 years old. This is what I prayed for. It’s progress. We’ve ran many 5ks together. I prayed that we could do our annual race this fall, whether we walked ran or wheeled across the finish line. We are registered. I prayed that we’d be able to sit on her deck and watch our kids swim together this summer. A couple of days ago, we did. I continue to pray for her full recovery.

At the other bedside was I praying for unity in my family, for peace for a restless soul. And I asked the Lord for strength and a clear mind. Begged. Pleaded. I had a feeling of what was coming and all my years in hospice were pointing in that direction, but if she was going to hope, so was I. And I’d say the Lord has been faithful.

Not all my prayers were answered, though most were, in the way I wanted and some I can’t see the answers at all. I know we are not exempt from suffering, but that relief never came this side of Heaven. Even at one of the best hospitals in the country. And some days I have felt so weak, but the Lord has given me strength. His power, His joy.

There’s so much more that could be said about both of these experiences.

Maybe you’re in a season right now where nothing seems to be going right or you can’t quite get on the other side of your struggle. Maybe you feel like you’re drowning and can’t quite keep your head above water. Or maybe you’re numb and disconnected to the world around you, too tired to reengage or too beat down to care. Perhaps everyday feels like a chore instead of living.

I just want you to know you’re not alone.

I could never guarantee that every situation gets better. I haven’t seen that in my own life or anyone else’s. But I do know it’s not all bad. I know that when we have been in our darkest times, we’ve been able to catch glimpses of light. Right now in parenting it feels like “these are the days we’ve been dreamin’ of.” We are finally seeing prayers answered we started praying nearly a decade ago. The boys are now tweens and while we are quickly getting our feet wet with the next stage of parenting challenges, these are the days we prayed for. Jesus continues to shine through and my gratitude for this is overwhelming. We have to remember that gratitude is a choice.

It has looked like our son with an intellectual disability courageously applying for the yearbook club at school, completing the application totally by himself and getting selected. Or our son finally sharing his thoughts and feelings about how he’s struggling and not holding back. Picking up another son from sports camp without a coach needing to talk with me about his impulsive behavior. It’s the extra “I love you” here and there. It’s the simple, “No mom, this is the kind of pancake syrup my brothers like. Get this one.” Yes, some of that comes with age, but some of it doesn’t. It’s not perfect, but it never will be. So after years of prayer and even grieving through parenting, the sun has never shone brighter.

I’m not sure where this post will find you. Maybe you can’t wait to live your best life this weekend. Maybe this has been the worst week of your life. I can tell you that He’s here. That Jesus is able to meet you wherever you are, with whatever you have and offers what the world never can. You don’t have to struggle alone. He actually desires to be as close to your mess as you will let Him be. He stands at the door and knocks.

I learned from a young age that life is fleeting and temporary. At the end of Hebrews 11, after so many stories of faith from men and women in the Bible are recounted, the author writes this: ³⁹ These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received all that had been promised, ⁴⁰ since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

Friends, these are the days. They may be the only ones we get and the best is yet to come.