When it comes to hope, I'd prefer if someone would hand me a metaphorical bouquet of hope-in-full-bloom, something I can point to and easily say, "There's the beauty. There's the color. There's the life." Like a bunch of hope-filled balloons, I want to grab hold and immediately float above the struggle, the disappointment, the heartache, the fear. I want hope in an instant, hope on-demand.

And yet, if you're like me, our experience of hope isn't always that easy or care-free. Hope doesn't always make a bright, grand entrance; hope often starts small, sneaks in the side door and, rather than flipping a switch to turn on the light, it quietly keeps us company in the dark.

And maybe that's a good thing. Because maybe that's exactly where hope is cultivated, where hope takes root, where hope begins to grow. Listen in.

remind{h}er 11: While We Wait

Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor

Jan Richardson

www.remindherpodcast.com