I was recently divorced. I didn’t have a clue what was going on. My entire world was spinning. The hurt. The confusion. The questioning. I had this strong pull in my heart and I knew it was God. My mind and my soul were on different tracks. I wanted so bad to be what God wanted. I had NO idea how to do it. I had been in SMALL groups. I had attended church regularly. I had served. I had been reading in God’s Word. I had improved my life so much.
It wasn’t the right way.
I put my whole faith into part of a Hebrews verse. I had struggled for so long with insecurity. I found peace in this verse. I cherished this verse.
Hebrews 6:19.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
I believed in Hope. I just couldn’t quite grasp what I needed to do. I was still living in this world. I wasn’t giving my entire life to God. And it showed.
I decided to get a tattoo. Tattoos have always been an important part of my healing. Please don’t correct me if you think I’m wrong. God gave me this temple to use for His good. I believe I am doing so. Anywho, I digress.
I went to the local shop. There was a few artists there that I trusted with forever ink on my body. For this, I chose someone I had never used but I believed in his work and I had known him from us being from a small town. He was an anthiest. I wouldn’t have told you normally, but it has everything to do with my story.
He’s sitting there, stabbing needles into my skin, chatting with me. Folks out there with no tattoos, it’s the same idea as going to get your hair done. Small chat but the more you know the person, the more chatting occurs.
He asked, why choose this tattoo? I explained a very surface explanation. I told him God was God and that was it. He asked about the Bible. I was embarrassed because I didn’t have much to say. He told me if it was my faith, I should really put it as a priority to learn everything I could. He was kind in his thoughts. He was genuine in his purpose. I forever am grateful for God using him to slap me in the face. And permanently color my skin, of course. Ha.
That day changed my life.
I had no idea but I do now. Hope means everything to me. It’s what I hold onto when I am waiting for an answer to something I have been dreaming of. I use it when I pray to God about my future desires. I truly believe the hope I have in God, will get me exactly where I need to be.
Faith questioned by an anthiest. He told me to get my butt in gear. And I did.
God bless EVERYONE.
Learning to live in this world through HOPE 
If you remember some of my earlier comments (think back to the first few weeks), they should start making sense now.
The hard part for you will come when your year is up, if you make it…. About a week back into drinking, maybe two, you may even last a month or two, but at some point you’ll realize you’re a pickle trying to be a cucumber again and it won’t work. You’ll realize you’re still a pickle and you have to quit for real. A year won’t do it.
That’s going to suck. Just prepare yourself for it. Become okay with it. Accept that if this is the case, you’ll do what you have to do. Good luck.
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I’ve been sober 10 years. Divorced almost 5. I still feel the struggles but I’m thankful I’m not where I was.
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