Glimmers of Hope

On my life’s journey, I am not sure that I have always been aware of hope or have even been hopeful. I know that in my later years, hope and faith are the only things that kept me standing, especially during some of the hardest moments of my life. 

As a kid, I remember many moments that were scary and maybe even traumatic at the time. Even then, I remember just thinking of Jesus or Mother Mary.  I knew they could help, but that’s about it. 

Coming Back to the Faith

I can say that I really didn’t know what faith really meant until my reversion about 19 years ago. I am a cradle Catholic who went to Mass, not understanding what real faith meant. 

After I lost my mom 25 years ago, I stopped going to Mass. I remember my pain being so overwhelming that I thought God had failed me. After all, if you have faith, you are guaranteed that your prayers will be answered. 

This is the idea I grew up with; my mom sheltered me from going to funerals so hers was my first.  After that, I stop going to Mass and am not in relationship with God. I never officially left the Church, but I didn’t have a prayer routine at all. I did make the Sign of the Cross, and I did talk to God occasionally. 

It wasn’t until I became pregnant with my son that I realized that I needed to return to the Church. It was my responsibility to teach him about God as my mom did for me. 

My Mom's Example of Faith and Hope

After all, if it weren’t for her, I probably wouldn’t be writing this now. My grandmother took her to Mass and had her receive her sacraments. My mom was on her own at the age of nine due to my grandparents' passing. 

It was a miracle that even though she had a very challenging life, she always had hope and faith. My mom couldn’t tell you about the Catechism or have a conversation about apologetics, but she loved the Lord and trusted Him with her life. 

My mom’s relationship with the Lord was so strong and so important that she wanted to share that love with me and my sister. She truly lived every day with hope. Even during her last days, she was hopeful that perhaps a miracle would occur. Twenty-five years ago, she passed away.  

For me, all hope was gone after her death. I felt my life was over, and I became very depressed and anxious. It took me a long time to get used to the idea that she was gone. Now I know that I had a very unhealthy attachment to my mother due to our family dynamic and trauma. 

God and His grace led me back home because of my pregnancy. 

Hope and Grace Kept Me Going

Fast forward many years and hope was the only thing besides God’s grace that kept me going. I went through a very challenging and hurtful divorce that caused my son a lot of pain and visits to the hospital. Then hope was all that I had in order to find out what ailment was causing my son’s anxiety and depression. 

Finally, I found out he was autistic, and that was a relief. It provided me with hope that the doctors and specialists would find the medication and therapy that would give him the tools needed to thrive. 

Looking back, it was God’s grace that gave me hope and kept me going. Many days it was only His grace that gave me the strength to face whatever was going to happen that day. 

It wasn’t perfect by any means. There were days I would cry in the shower or in my car so that my son wouldn’t see my pain and helplessness. I remember him saying many times that he couldn’t understand why I didn’t stop praying or hoping, and that he didn’t think it made a difference. 

Over the last several years, now that he is older, he tells me that he understands why I prayed and was hopeful.

Never ever give up on hope, never doubt, never tire, and become discouraged. Be not afraid. (Pope John Paul II: In My Own Words, 2002) 

 

These have been and will continue to be my words to live by. 

For the Jubilee of Hope, our writers reflect on prayer as a source of hope in their lives.

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Estrada
Images: Holy Cross Family Ministries