I am a prairie girl through and through. Who I am at my core is shaped by where I live. People of the prairies know hope. We believe in the impossible. We know resurrection stories. We understand trials and the joys of perseverance. We know how to embrace celebration.
I ventured out tonight to my Ignatian Lay Volunteer group for the final meeting before summer break. These are some of the people who have been praying up a storm for me. Such joy filled the room as we were reunited post-surgery. Our gratitude at what is was tangible. We are prairie folks who believe in hope.
Earlier today I wrote a couple of faraway friends and explained where I was physically and emotionally. They cannot see or hear me to get a sense of my recovery. I described how I was sitting in the sun, wrapped in my prayer shawl, looking out at the gardens. The tulips that were covered in snow yesterday had drooped in the early morning sun but were still opening as the day warmed up. Fear had not kept their buds closed. The other flowers were not carrying the burden of the weight of what was but revelling in the moment of what is.
This thing called hope wins here on the prairies where we never know what may happen. I grow stronger each day. It has only been two weeks since surgery and my eyes are focused forward and upward. I am surrounded by love, rooted in trust, grounded in gratitude, and joyful in hope. To God be the glory now and always.