Prisoner of Hope

I. Am. Tired.

While my parents traveled abroad, I sipped coffee with their puppy at my side for over two weeks. Dethroned, Eggs (my tabby cat) lurked and hissed in the shadows, anxious for the perky King Charles Cavalier to go home. When the puppy finally left, two of my granddaughters provided weekend entertainment. But not before my face drooped down and left again, requiring another round of medical attention.

Life has pressed my limits. 

But in the midst of it all, I wrote a song. My first since last summer. While the chorus had floated around in my head for a few months, the verses only flowed after a friend’s husband died of a heart attack ten days ago.

A chiropractor by trade, Scott worked magic on my wrists, arms, and neck more than once. So, when I heard he was gone, I couldn’t sit still.

A few calls later, I offered to purchase a meat tray and deliver it to his former home. Once there, I helped with a few chores and then sat in the living room with others in shock. Someone complimented my new cell phone purse so I shared, “I bought a few weeks ago when I spoke in Hilton Head.”

“What do you speak about?” a neighbor asked.

“Hope. I speak about hope.” Not sure if I should expound on the topic, I hesitated but continued. “About five years into my stint as a widowed mom, I had a bad day. So, I climbed my stairs, plopped on my bed, and opened my Bible."

Still nervous, I pressed on, “As I was reading, a loud explosion startled me. I waited for sirens or smoke but nothing happened. I crept downstairs and opened my front door only to see several other neighbors doing the same. We soon realized that a sonic boom caused the blast and as I took it all in, I was in awe. For, right before it shook my house, I read, ‘Return to your fortress, you prisoners of hope; even now I announce I will restore twice as much to you’ (Zechariah 9:12 NIV).

It felt like a divine exclamation point had thundered at just the right moment to remind me that I was to be a prisoner of hope. Even when things didn’t go my way. Even when life hurt.”

Karen’s neighbor later asked if I would get her a copy of the verse since her daughter was especially fond of Scott and would need hope in the days to come.  

I need hope. Scott's family needs hope. And you need hope. Keeping it alive in a world full of unknowns and loss is a constant battle. 

So return to your fortress. Determine to live as a prisoner of hope. For even now I announce, He will restore twice as much to you.