Love Always Hopes

This Week's Story

Vesta found the lump when her baby, David, was still nursing. In rural Haiti, a diagnosis is a luxury and treatment is a rumor. She and her husband, Ramone, made the two-hour drive to the hospital in Mirebalais with David in her arms. They waited all day. They never saw a doctor. I have no idea why. At the end of the day, they made the two-hour drive home.

Most people would have given up right there. They didn't. They prayed. They hoped. They believed. They kept loving each other and loving that baby boy, and as hard as their life already was, God poured on some Gorilla Glue and connected their souls even tighter.

Months later, I went back to Haiti and got to hold a much bigger David. Vesta took my hand and placed it on her breast. The tumor was almost completely gone.

I can't explain that, and I won't pretend to. But I know what I watched: love that never stopped hoping. Love that always hopes sees the future as brighter, sees good coming out of crummy, sees miracles before they happen. It never quits hoping for recovery from the addiction, healing from the sickness, restoration of the relationship. It doesn't mean staying in something that's hurting you — it means hoping the best even for people who have hurt you, because when you love, it changes your heart, and sometimes it changes theirs. God doesn't lose hope on us either. He doesn't give up. Because love always hopes.

This Week, Day by Day

My Prayer This Week