Hope Beneath the Mud and Mess

I stepped away for a few days because Abby and I were traveling and spending time with friends, but I’ve returned to the cold of Virginia just in time to watch the pool construction resume.  It’s forty-one degrees outside, the yard is a huge pile of mud from the recent snow, and yet, I feel some contentment when I see the pool project coming to fruition.

When we first moved here a year and a half ago, we were full of so much hope and plans for what we wanted to do here.  We knew we wanted a pool and spa, and we wanted to install a whole-house generator.  Both of these projects were put on hold after Grubby’s death out of fear.  I was afraid… afraid of never having money and of what people would think of me.  The fear of financial instability was valid enough.  I mean, who doesn’t want to know that they can afford the life they chose?  Ultimately, though, I knew I was financially sound enough to do it all.

Then it was time to address the fear of what people would think of me.  I was afraid that people would think that I was the grieving widow spending money on all these “things”.  Suddenly, I realized that I no longer care what anyone thinks.  I have to do me, and not pretend for anyone else’s sake.  Water is my element, so watching the pool get filled has given me some peace today, knowing that when the weather warms up in a few months, I will have a little slice of paradise where I can relax, drink coffee, write, and float.  Just being able to see it happening now gives me hope about my future. 

A little over seventeen years ago, when I needed a shred of hope as I began a new life – a life free from alcohol – I saw the smiles and the joy in the people around me and knew that there was hope, even in the darkest moments.  Today, I see the mud, the gravel, and the hope is still there.  I envision the final product, with banana plants, cold-hardy palms and hibiscus, and brightly colored décor, and it excites me.       

Hope is important, for when you have hope, you can keep going.  Even on the bad days, I have hope.  Now I have something tangible to look at and remind me that hope remains alive.