You're not supposed to get breast cancer when you're 31 and healthy.
You're not supposed to lose the ability to have kids because of cancer-fighting medications.
You're not supposed to have all of your plans disintegrate because of sickness.
You're not supposed to worry about dying when you've barely started living.
Three years ago, my friend Alisa was diagnosed with breast cancer, and for any of you who have walked through such a journey, saying it sucks is laughably understated. I honestly don't know how she and her husband - or anyone for that matter - got through it. It's not the way life is supposed to be.
But three years later, this is Alisa. With the word "hope" tattooed over her port scar. The first time I saw it, I immediately cried. The scar will never leave, and hope doesn't hide the hurt life leaves behind. But it can be the lens that changes everything. When you see Alisa's scar, you see hope first, and that is a gift.
Because hope does not disappoint.
If you're walking through a world covered in scars and open wounds, remember that the lens of hope is a powerful salve. It doesn't make the pain go away, but it reminds us that pain has a purpose. Suffering shapes us. It makes us more authentically who we were made to be. It equips us to have the courage to sit with others who are hurting and not say a word of solution. It makes us brave enough to feel angry and not apologize for it. It reminds us that we don't hold our lives in our own hands. It strips away our desire to be perfect.
Hope helps us see the truth of our brokenness and find comfort in not being enough. May that truth be tattooed on our souls and offer its sweet gift of comfort.