Holding On to Hope

I’m playing old-school Christmas music in my apartment. Frank Sinatra. Bing Crosby. Judy Garland. Some of the songs are bouncy and light. Others have a heaviness to them.

The Holidays are weird like that. Full of emotional juxtaposition. Celebration and sadness commingled.

I’ve been reflecting on this past year. I’ve accomplished a lot. I graduated law school and passed the bar exam. I’ve had new experiences. I’ve made new friends.  

But I’ve also lost old friends. I’ve had struggles. I’ve made mistakes.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’ve grown over the last year. If I’ve stepped forward or backward. I want to be wiser and stronger. Closer to God and closer to others. But life has hills and valleys. Sometimes, I’m afraid my valleys outnumber my hills.

I reach out to turn up my music. I’m hoping to drown out some of these thoughts. As I crank up the volume, my hand brushes against the plant next to the stereo.

My Christmas cactus.

It’s been a hard year for that guy. Back in June, I left him outside for a few days. I thought he’d appreciate the summer sun.

He didn’t. He baked to a crisp.

Parts of him turned shriveled and brown. Then segments dropped. Dense branches became sparse and spindly. I’ve been nursing him back to health since.

But something is different about him today. He still looks like he’s limping back to health. But each arm now holds something. Some arms hold tightly bound buds. Others hold unfurled red flowers.

They all hold hope.

Hope that there are victories amidst the struggles. Hope for redemption and new life. Hope that the hills outnumber the valleys.

So, instead of letting my doubts weigh me down, I hold on to hope.

The kind of hope that can only come from a baby who was born in a stable.