Most of the time I find joy in the mundane. In every day. In waking up in this beautiful city that I get to call my own for two years. In a beautiful sunset over a breath-taking bay or an idyllic sun-rise over the mountains. Most of the time I find joy in laughter, in irony, or in good conversation.
Today I will strive to find joy in hope.
Sometimes it seems as if the emergence of hope is more of a curse than anything. Especially when that hope is something that has always seemed elusive and unattainable in the first place. Especially when hope died for good reason. Along with the exhilarating nature of hope comes the crushing knowledge that it will probably be short-lived, just like every time before...
And yet, hope reminds me I'm alive. That my course is not set, and that life is full of good surprises. Hope reminds me that my Savior didn't stay dead. Hope reminds me of miracles, of grace, and of the beauty of a new morning.
And so I'll take the curse. I'll take the constant crush of emotion at the knowledge that this hope is so illusory and probably fleeting if it means that I get to experience the joy of the unknown, of hope untainted by knowledge of the future, of hope yet unsullied by experience.
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