The news of a friend’s death this past week came out of the blue and hit hard. Pete has been part of our lives, off and on, since before Ron and I were married. He was a groomsman in our wedding and godfather to our daughter, Anna. The thought that he is no longer with us is difficult to absorb.
Hearing the news while traveling made it all the more painful. I longed to be with Ron so that we could share our sadness face-to-face rather than over the phone. I needed hugs and had to settle for texts. We sent “love you’s” back and forth as the news sunk in. Alone in my hotel room, I reflected on Pete’s struggles with addiction and the heartbreak of his fractured family. Pushed to the brink, he made his way back in slow and sometimes unsteady steps. He told us we were part of the process and yet now I wonder if we might have done more to help him.
After sudden deaths, we are often pushed to our own edges, beset and beleaguered by questions. Why did it have to happen this way? What about those left behind? How will we fare? Where has our loved one gone? Is there a life beyond this one? Is there a God who watches over all of this - a God who takes our grief and confusion in hand and brings some semblance of peace and reassurance? Easy answers are not forthcoming. Instead we hope.
Someone once described hope as the middle child who is overshadowed by her two bigger sisters – faith and love. As a result, hope can be misconstrued as optimism or wishful thinking. My favorite way of thinking about hope comes from the 14th century mystic, Julian of Norwich. “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well,” she wrote. I must confess that, upon first reading this, I thought it rather simplistic. It is only when dangling from the cliffs of desperation, however, that Julian’s wisdom begins to make sense. She is not saying all will be well right now or tomorrow or even in our lifetime. Hope is a virtue for the long haul. It requires a longer view and strains to see behind the obstacles that, at first glance, seem impassable. As writer Michael Downey puts it, “hope is a sense of what might yet be.”
So, as I travel home after a long and tiring week on the road, I hold onto hope that Pete has found rest and peace, and that all of us who miss him will find comfort in one another and in our memories. If “hope springs eternal”, as the saying goes, then all will be well - in good time.
Bright Ideas
Engage your family or class in a discussion about the reasons for hopelessness in our world. Then name reasons to be hopeful as a result of your trust in God.
Download my Prayer for Hope, and use it in your parish or home.