Ann Voskamp wrote this beautiful blog post entitled "When You Are in Desperate Need of Hope" contrasting an Ecuadorian girl named Lidia waiting for a sponsor through Compassion and the joy of finally getting one. She wrote about being picked by hope.
Esperanza, she sprinkles in. The word hope, coming from the verb esperar.
Esperar, the Spanish verb for to hope.
Esperar, the Spanish verb for to wait.
I remember learning esperar, struggling to spell it and struggling to remember both of its meanings. They seemed like a weird combination.
Then "Esperanza" became the name belonging to the protagonist of my thesis. (The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros) Daily I wrote about Esperanza and her multicultural struggling. I know all about Esperanza's struggle with her name: too many letters, sadness, waiting.
Yet today, "esperar" is hope and, in it, waiting.
To hope for something means you're waiting for it. Nine years after first learning the word, the light bulb clicked.
I remember some of my current favorite verses:
"Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will hope in Him!'" Lamentations 3:21-24 NLT
What if I took it upon myself to translate that word differently? (If it makes you feel better, I looked it up in Hebrew: yachal, it also has the connotation of "waiting" that the word "hope" loses in English).
"Yet I still dare to WAIT when I remember this: the faithful love of the Lord never ends. His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness. His mercies begin anew each morning. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my inheritance; therefore I will WAIT in Him." Lamentations 3:21-24 (emphasis mine)
The same promise. A new spin.
Hopeful yet waiting.
Hopeful in His; waiting on (and in) Him.
That's what I want. Nothing else.