The Constitutions of the Congregation of Holy Cross note that, for the brothers and priests of Holy Cross: “Resurrection is a daily event.” This daily resurrection can only be found by embracing the daily crosses of our lives.
In this series, “Stories of Hope” we share a collection of some of our best previously published Live stories that exemplify this search for hope and resurrection in the darkness of life. These writers have beautifully articulated the challenge of the Christian to see the light of Christ and bear Christ’s light in the midst of darkness. We hope, throughout the autumn, as daylight begins to wane, the light of hope that shines through these reflections will be a blessing to you, as they have been an encouragement and inspiration to us.
Hope is Something You Do With Your Feet
She was Lutheran, but I don’t think Grandma would mind that I now see Mary’s light reflected in her. Both trusted in the fruit born by quiet faithfulness.
The Cemetery, Place of Hope
I don’t know that one ever receives the answers that we demand to the “big” questions that we often bring to God in prayer, the ones that drop us to our knees. I do believe, however, that God can speak answers to one’s heart that point our suffering to something greater.
We Help Each Other Bear the Darkness
From what I could gather as an eavesdropping child, my brother needed good doctors and good prayers and good company and good food. I figured I could help with at least three of those.
We Live with Death Behind Us
“There are really only two ways to live: living with death in front of you or living with death behind you,” my rector explained. “Christians—we live with death behind us.”
Death’s Truth is Incomplete
There is a certain truth to death—it is the truth of evil, of the unintelligible nature of our broken world. Death is alive in this life of ours, and its reach is far and wide. Still, death remains an incomplete telling of the truth.
The Mystical Embrace of Mercy
Every day since that difficult morning in the doctor’s office, God’s mercy has been visible and tangible, carrying us forward in the affirmation of God’s love. Family, friends, co-workers, doctors, nurses, and strangers have all reached out to bear our weakness and our struggles with us. So many individuals have born us in sorrow, lifting us up to hope in our grief.
Stay Together
For a year I traveled across the continent once a month to see my mom. She called me all day every day whether I was there or not. Sometimes thirteen times a day. Dementia has good days and bad days, good hours and bad hours. Lunch was a good hour: “There is no problem here,” she says, dignified and elegant. “I am quite fine and really don’t need anyone’s help.” But by the evening she could not find her apartment, or once inside, her bedroom in her apartment.