How do you picture hope? We live hanging onto hope or we dwell in despair. But what’s a good way to describe this intangible substance?
A fire ravaged big sections of San Diego County in 2003. The Cedar Fire, as it’s now referred to, started in the mountain town of Julian. Trees burned. Houses burned, too. People died in this fire. The air turned brown for days and ash covered the ground.
Today, evidence of the fire stands in Julian in the twisted shapes of dead trees.
These trees are witness to a time of despair, a reminder of what’s dark and frightening.
The landscape today, though, is also filled with new growth.
Greenery grows alongside the blackened branches.
Despair is not gone, but hope breaks the ground and says, “Look at me; I am new and fresh and lovely.”
We can’t undo the past. Its detritus is part of our current landscape. That’s okay. Hope is filling in the landscape with bloom.
Hope is not denying the old; it’s focusing on the new, the bud with the potential to blossom. In a life filled with hope, color bursts out.
How about you? How do you picture hope?