Signs of Hope
We Almost Missed
by Rev. Sheri Spiritual teacher, writer, and founder of Angel Messenger
Sometimes we are so busy getting through a difficult moment that we don’t recognize the hope tucked inside it.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking about how worry and gratitude can occupy the same space. We can be thankful for something beautiful while still feeling anxious about what comes next. We can celebrate a milestone and carry concerns that don’t disappear simply because we’ve stepped away from home.
Right before Bill and I left for our 25th wedding anniversary trip, we received a notice that our health insurance costs would be increasing by at least double in January, and the coverage will likely be less.
That is a lot to take in just as you’re packing for a trip you’ve been looking forward to.
We were preparing to celebrate our life together, and suddenly there was another financial worry coming along for the ride. I wanted to enjoy our time away, but I couldn’t simply switch off the part of my mind that wondered how we would manage.
Then came the drive.
With people heading into Chicago for the marathon and big game, our trip took almost two hours longer than expected. By the time we reached our first hotel, I was ready to be done traveling.
Arriving felt like one big exhale.
We had gained an hour by entering the Central time zone, and the hotel had a restaurant where we could have dinner. We didn’t have to get back in the car or figure out where to go.
We had arrived. We could eat. We could rest.
The insurance notice was still real. January was still coming. But so was dinner, and a place to settle in, and time together.
There was goodness available to us in that moment.
When Relief Is Small but Real
I think we sometimes expect hope to feel bigger than it does.
We imagine a clear answer, an open door, or news that changes everything. Those moments matter. But when we’re watching only for something that dramatic, we can overlook the quieter relief that helps us through an ordinary day.
A meal we don’t have to prepare.
Someone who listens.
A moment of laughter when we’ve been tense for hours.
The feeling of finally setting down our bags.
These things may seem too small to count when we’re facing something difficult. Yet our bodies and hearts need those moments. We need opportunities to loosen our grip, breathe a little deeper, and experience something beyond the worry.
That evening at the hotel didn’t answer our questions about January. It gave us room to enjoy the evening we were actually living.
Sometimes that is the hope we can receive today.
Love in the Middle of Uncertainty
Celebrating 25 years of marriage gave me another reason to pause.
There is so much life inside those years. So many ordinary days, responsibilities, changes, and things we could never have predicted.
And there we were, making another memory together.
It would have been easy to let worry take up all the room. Financial concerns have a way of doing that. They can follow us into a beautiful place and ask us to spend the whole time thinking about a future we cannot yet solve.
But our time together mattered, too.
The life we were celebrating deserved our attention. We were allowed to enjoy a meal, share a laugh, and be present with each other while still having unanswered questions.
Perhaps you need that permission as well.
You are allowed to notice something beautiful during a difficult season. You are allowed to enjoy a good moment without first proving that everything else is okay.
Receiving joy doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten your responsibilities. It gives your heart something to draw from as you carry them.
The Care That Has Already Reached Someone
I see another kind of hope through our Compassion Projects.
We have sent 48 compassion kits in the last four months.
When I’m looking at what needs to be restocked or wondering how to fund the next round, it is easy to move straight to what still needs doing. There is always another need. Another person struggling. Another reason to wish we could do more.
But those 48 kits deserve a moment of recognition.
Each one was something tangible that reached another person. Supplies they could use. An expression of care. A reminder that someone was thinking of them.
The need that remains does not erase the help that has already arrived.
That is something I want to remember in my own life, too. When I look only at what I haven’t been able to do, I lose sight of the love that has already taken shape through my hands—and through the generosity of others.
Hope can be found there, in the evidence that we have cared for one another.
The Hope Inside Reaching Out
The prayer wall reminds me of this as well.
People bring their grief, health concerns, uncertainty, and love for those they are worried about. Sometimes there is so much pain in a request that I wish I could reach through the screen and make things easier.
I cannot promise how or when an answer will come. But I can recognize the significance of someone reaching out.
Even when a person feels discouraged, there may still be a small willingness to say, “Please hear me. Please pray with me.”
We don’t have to feel confident to ask for support. We don’t have to have beautiful words or know exactly what we need.
Sometimes the most hopeful thing we can do is let someone know we are having a hard time.
And sometimes we become part of someone else’s hope simply by answering with kindness.
A Gentle Way to Notice
Looking back over these past few weeks, I can see how easily worry could have become the whole story.
The insurance notice. The long drive. The responsibilities waiting at home.
All of those things were real. So were the moments of relief, the time with Bill, and the kindness still moving through our community.
I want to make room to remember those things, too.
If you’ve been carrying a lot, consider asking yourself:
“During these past few weeks, what helped me feel even a little more supported?”
Perhaps someone checked on you. Perhaps you asked for help. Perhaps there was one peaceful morning, one comforting conversation, or one moment when your body finally relaxed.
You don’t have to turn that moment into proof that everything will work out. You can simply let it matter.
Let it remind you that difficulty has not taken away your ability to receive care, experience beauty, or find a little rest.
My prayer for you is that you notice one of those moments today—and allow yourself to stay with it long enough to receive what it offers.
With Peace, Love, and Grace,
Rev. Sheri
A Place to Share What You’re Carrying
If you’re having trouble finding hope today, you are welcome to share what’s on your heart through our Living Prayer Wall of Light. You can leave a prayer request for yourself or someone you love, or offer a prayer for another person.
Sometimes a small sign of hope begins with knowing someone is praying with you.
