A few months ago, we had to make the difficult decision to put our dog down. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever experienced. And somewhere in the middle of all that grief, I heard this small whisper… Yet, I will still hope.

Without hesitating, I wrote it down.

It was such a short simple phrase. But, it was powerful. I felt like it awakened something within me. Like it was breathing life into this lifeless situation. I found myself sitting with it in this new grief.

The more I sat with it, the more I realized I had some questions. 

What does it mean to hope?
What does it mean to choose hope?
Can you choose hope? 
Why don’t I always feel hopeful?
How can I feel hopeful?
Where does true hope come from?
Why do my circumstances feel louder than hope?

I know these are some big questions. But I couldn’t ignore them.

So, I did what made the most sense.. I started googling it.  Turns out, the world is also very confused about what hope is and how you experience it. 

According to the great Merriam-Webster, hope means to cherish a desire with anticipation; to want something to happen or be true. Google defines it as feeling. Then there’s biblical hope which emphasizes guarantee and assurance. It’s having confidence in God’s promises. 

This is where my frustration really started to build. It's 2026, how can hope be such an abstract thing? I went looking for clear answers and all I got was more confusion. 

But, maybe that means I’m not alone in my confusion.

If I'm being honest, most days it feels like the odds are against me more than they're for me. I think that’s why hope has felt so dificult.

My husband and haven't had a stable income in 9 months, and the debt is piling. We're running three businesses that are still in their early stages. We aren't sure if we'll ever get a chance to have kids. We haven't had health insurance in years. We're both getting older, still in the trenches bootstrapping our lives. We don't even have our pup to distract us from any of this. And we don’t really get any “off” days. 

These are the things that make us wonder if this is all worth it. And when I think about giving it up, life feels so dark.. so hopeless.

Yet, I will still hope.

To walk away now, from this life, my faith, and The Lovely Letter Co, would mean walking away from meaning itself. I've seen what it looks like when someone lets go of hope completely, and it's the most depressing thing I know that amounts to more suffering. That's a reality I refuse to choose for myself.

Hope might be a feeling. It might even be more accessible to you on your good days. But I’m also realizing that it’s a sacrificial choice. To choose hope on your hardest days takes more strength and courage than anything else.

I don't think I have all the answers when it comes to hope. But I know for a fact, I want to build my life around hope.

Whether the debt is here or it's paid, I want to be hopeful. 
Whether we build our family or not, I want to be hopeful.
On my best and worst days, I want to be hopeful.
If I can choose hope, why wouldn't I?

Accessing hope in difficult circumstances might be as simple as changing your perspective. These are the two things that are allowing me to do that. 

1. Remembering  

I’m starting to realize that hope begins in the remembering. It’s remembering, naming and declaring the promises of the Lord. The ones that are in scripture and the ones he’s whispered to me. It’s remembering the experiences I’ve had that were once lifeless but have been restored. Sometimes I write these things down. Sometimes I actually speak them aloud. Either way, I'm realizing that they must be acknowledged. That's where hope begins.

2. Noticing 

Noticing is being aware of your physical surroundings and the things around you that unexpectedly show up and bring you joy. For me, that’s noticing nature like a bird or butterfly that shows up in our back yard. Sometimes it’s a good cup of coffee, or a text from a friend at exactly the right moment. When all I can see are my circumstances, I often miss out on what’s in front of me. Noticing pulls me back into being present and reminds me that hope is closer than I expected.

So now I invite you into this wrestling. 

What does hope mean to you?

What's something you remember, a promise that actually held, a moment that felt dead but wasn't? What does it feel like to acknowledge that?

Sit in silence for 3 minutes (get outside if you can!) Make a list of what you noticed and star the ones that spark hope, even if it's small. 

If you're holding onto hope by a thread right now, or you know someone who is, this card was made for exactly that. Send it to someone who needs the reminder, or keep one for yourself. Shop the Yet I Will Still Hope card here.

Until Next Time,