How to stay hopeful when life gets hard

I’ve been thinking a lot about perspective lately - how different people can look at the exact same situation and see completely different things.

Not because one is lying or pretending .... but because what we focus on shapes what we see.

There are two British Artists that I know of - Tim Noble and Sue Webster - who create sculptures from piles of discarded junk.

Random debris, old cans, scraps of wood, twisted metal. If you look at the heap itself in a bright room, it’s just trash.

But when the main lights are turned off and a single, directed light is shone on it, the shadows cast on the wall become detailed portraits. Beauty formed out of what looks like a haphazard heap of rubbish.

It’s all about perspective.

What’s ugly in one angle can be breathtaking from another.

I didn’t understand how deeply true that was until I was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo treatment right in the middle of Covid.

It was every layer of awful.

My parents couldn't come to visit or stay.

Hospital trips were a nightmare of isolation.

My immune system was at its weakest during a time when the whole world was terrified of germs.

And at home, we had kids who were loud, boisterous, clingy, and busy .... because they were stuck inside too.

Double (if not triple!) the trouble.

But over time, another perspective started to emerge - not instead of the awful, but alongside it.

Because as hard as that season was, it was also the best timing we could have asked for.

Nobody could visit .... which meant nobody could bring germs. My immune system was safe.

Everyone was told to stay home .... which meant I didn’t have to feel guilty for not having the capacity to show up anywhere.

Daycare was closed and the kids had to stay home .... which meant the kids couldn’t bring home any germs.

My parents couldn’t fly in to be with me .... which meant they didn’t have to watch the chemo, the hair loss, the pain, the nausea. In some ways (or at least I hope), ignorance really was bliss.

The kids needed me constantly and were demanding .... but their need for me distracted me from the side effects, kept me occupied, and gave me daily purpose.

Was it perfect? Not even close.

Was it difficult? Absolutely.

But it taught me that having a different perspective doesn’t erase the hard things - it simply reveals what else is present. Things that I may not have seen the first time or angle that I looked.

And I want to be really clear about this: I’m not one of those people who says 'there’s a blessing in everything' or that 'everything happens for a good reason.'

That's not a good thing to say to the person who's suffering!

Some experiences are tragic. Losing someone you love, losing your job, being diagnosed with illness -

none of these things magically become good.

I don't believe God wills it - I'm a firm believer that God only has our best interests at heart.

But I honestly do not know why bad things happen to good people, or why God allows certain things to happen.

But what I have learned is this: Even when something isn’t good, God can still bring good out of it.

Sometimes we don’t see the good until long after the dust settles.

Sometimes we can’t see anything but the pain at first; and that’s okay. That’s very human.

The problem isn’t the emotion.

It’s when the emotion - whether grief, disappointment, or anger - becomes the only lens we allow ourselves to look through.

Because then we get so caught up that these emotions become blinkers, and it blinds us to the other perspectives that are present but perhaps not obvious at the time.

So my encouragement to you (and me! I'm speaking to myself as much as I am to you) is this:

Let's keep our eyes and heart open.

Let's not bury the emotions. Let's not gloss over them or pretend it’s fine when it isn’t.

Let the feelings surface. Let the tears come. Let the questions sit unanswered for a while.

(note: I'm speaking to the people who, like me, are particularly rational. We don't tend to leave room for emotions because we think they're a waste of time. Emotions are important!)

Because when we process the pain instead of locking it away, we leave space: space for revelation, space for growth, space for healing, and most importantly, space for God to shine a different kind of light on the situation.

And when that light hits at the right angle .... the very thing that looked like a pile of brokenness can transform to become something else entirely.

Something meaningful.
Something redemptive.
Something unexpectedly beautiful.

If you're going through a rough time in this season, here are some points to ponder:

• What area of my life right now feels like a pile of 'junk'; messy, painful, confusing, or unfinished?

• What emotions am I actually feeling about that situation; not the 'acceptable' ones but the real ones?

• What can I do to process my emotions rather than bury them?

• Where do I see hints of hope or blessing that could be a different perspective, even if it’s tiny?

• If I believe God can bring beauty from brokenness, what would trusting Him in this specific situation look like right now?

Be blessed,

Amy 💛