“Be faithful in small things, because it is in them that your faith lies” ~Mother Theresa of Calcutta

A prisoner of war, held captive underground. He has not seen the light of day for 10 years. He is tortured and abused but he lives one more day everyday…waiting.

A soon-to-be father, sits in the pristine waiting room of a major hospital’s labour ward. His wife is in labour. He is tense and afraid and he can barely sit still as he impatiently waits….

A child sits outside his school. School is done and his mother should be on her way. He glances down the road regularly expecting to see her jalopy come round the corner any minute now. He got an A for his assignment and she promised him ice cream if he did well. He cant wait to show her…..

No matter what the circumstances, we are all waiting, hoping and believing that things will go our way; that promises will be kept; that good things will come our way. Without our realising it, faith and hope are an integral part of our everyday life. Constantly giving us something to look forward to….for is that not the reason why we get up everyday?

Even in the darkest of times faith and hope endure against all odds. When I first began to suspect that my mother had cancer I hoped desperately I was wrong. When the doctors gave the diagnosis I hoped they were wrong. When the doctors said there was nothing they could do I had faith God would perform a miracle. When mum began to decline rapidly I hoped her fighting spirit would conquer. When she told me she had no fight left in her and she didn’t think she could beat it anymore I hoped she was wrong. When she died I hoped I would be able to look after my siblings. I also secretly hoped she would come back because accepting she was gone was just too hard…..so instead I hoped and I waited.

Despite how hard I hoped and prayed my mother passed away. When she did it hurt like nothing I had ever known. But looking back hope didn’t change a single thing in the physical situation and yet, somehow, it made all the difference… it kept me alive. It was my somewhat hopeless hope that got me out of bed every morning, that gave me the strength to be at the hospital every visiting hour, that kept me from breaking down as she grew weaker, that kept me sane when she was gone. It was that little bit of hope that said to me ‘take the next step, it may just be the one.’ Looking back, if I had not been hopeful, I would never have survived and I thank God for the human soul’s ability to believe in, and despite of, the impossible. To be forever faithful, to be forever hopeful no matter what ….. that is the essence of life itself.

I love my mum and I hope wherever she is, she is proud of me and that she is happy and healthy.

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