Launching hope one story at a time…
What is hope? How would you define the word?
Trust in a promise? Belief in something? An idea?
This weekend I launched my first book. And it was glorious and beautiful; surreal and exciting. But what struck me the most about the day was that the launch of my book JOEY was less about a book launch and more about launching hope.
Hope—
a strong expectation; a confident trust; an unwavering belief
The definition naturally lends itself to self-reflection:
What expectations do I have?
Who or what am I trusting in?
What are my unwavering beliefs.
Hope.
JOEY is the true story of a blind rescue horse who helped others see hope.
(My husband nudged me awake a few nights ago. Apparently I was reciting the tagline from my book in my sleep!)
We had prepared for the JOEY launch event for weeks. I had memorized my speech. The amazing people at the Hope Reins horse ranch had planned for every detail. The ranch was beautiful. The horses prepped. The food delicious.
And hope was palpable— like particle charges of hope floating in the air.
There was a joyful expectation on faces, both old and young. But we weren’t hoping in a book. And thank God we weren’t hoping in its author. Or the ranch. Or the event.
No, we were hoping in God and expecting Him to show up.
And He did.
He was visible in the words written on the sides of rescued horses. He was evident in the stories of restored children. He was heard in the words of those who spoke about the hurting, the broken, and the forgotten. He was felt in the gentle breeze. He was magnified through the scarlet thread of redemption woven into a glorious tapestry of hope—a tapestry that looks a lot like a spotted horse named JOEY.
Hope.
Something a blind horse helped people see everyday. Something a horse was able to give because humans had given to him.
Hope.
The realization that if the life of a broken and blind horse mattered—and had a purpose—than maybe, just maybe mine does too.
Hope.
The understanding that if there are safe people in this world who care for abused and abandoned horses then maybe there are safe people who will care for and help me.
Hope—the unwavering belief that if there is a God who cares so much about a blind horse surely He must also care about me.
Joey was a horse with a powerful story. A story woven together throughout many other stories. Each one meaningful. Each one powerful. Each one vital to create this tapestry of hope.
Each one of us has a story.
What’s yours? Have you ever thought about it? Can you trace the thread of hope woven throughout your story?
It’s there, I promise. But sometimes it’s buried. Sometimes other threads have been sown over it. But the thread of hope is always there.
Always.
So today, as JOEY is officially launched into the world my prayer is that this book launch is really a launching of hope…one story—one thread—at a time.
Much love,
Jen
