Hope Bloomed

When Pope Francis declared this to be the Jubilee Year of Hope, I was struck by the different connotations the word has. In our family, “Hope” is my beautiful niece, full of determination and confidence and grace and love. We often “hope” for a good grade, an athletic win, a part in a play.  

The theological virtue of hope, though, is more nuanced. The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines hope as our “desire [for] the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (Section 1817).  

When I think about my own journey toward true hope, I go back to college and the first time I noticed my husband’s seizure activity.  

We were on our way to study at a local greasy diner, and as I chattered away at him about everything and nothing, his right arm flew up over his head and then his hand rested back on the steering wheel. 

Weird. 

“Are you okay?” I asked. 

“What?” he deadpanned. “Oh. I’m just twitchy.”  

No big deal. 

Just twitchy.  

In chemistry class, the professors always put him at his own lab table so he wouldn’t inadvertently knock other students’ work to the floor. In other pharmacy classes, too, his professors and classmates all just knew he was twitchy and made accommodations without thinking anything of it.  

We all did. 

No big deal. 

Just twitchy. 

Until it was a big deal...

Read on at Catholic Mom