I am so glad that the pain of Friday and the silence of Saturday didn’t linger any longer than they did. And this year, more than ever before, I’m holding out hope for the coming sunrise. Not because of anything that this particular Sunday morning will hold… It’s really more a claiming of and clinging to the hope that not even the worst pain ends.

This world is hurting, people are just trying to survive… myself included some days.

But the sun rises. Every single day, the sun appears again. No matter how dark the night before. No matter how broken the heart. No matter how long the day felt. No matter what.

The sun will rise in the morning.

And there’s hope in that.

This season has been strange. Change is constant. Loss abounds. The people and places that were safe and stable are different now. Darkness seems to hang on. Through it all, I hold onto the hope of all that is celebrated in the sunrise of the coming Sunday.

Keep breathing, dear ones. When the structures you thought would support and protect you instead try to crush you, keep breathing. When those who should be consistently honest and true instead lie about you, cheat on you, and steal from you, keep breathing. When everything is dark and you can’t see any change coming, keep breathing.

Remember the beautiful sunrises you’ve seen. And know that it is coming again.

I love you, friends. And I desperately pray hope finds your hearts today. And that you see the brightening of a sunrise on the horizon.

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