What Is Hope? A Four-Letter Gift That Changed My Life
What is hope?
That’s the question I found myself asking at the tender age of 18, after receiving the Holy Spirit during a Catholic seminar. I had prepared for weeks for this moment — for the honor of receiving the Spirit of God and, more excitingly, to discover what spiritual gift He would bestow upon me.
As the ceremony came to a close, each participant was told their "gift." I eagerly listened as others shared that they had received gifts like healing, wisdom, or courage. I was filled with anticipation — certain mine would be something bold and transformational.
When it was my turn, I was told my gift was hope.
Just four letters. No dramatic change. No revelation. No confetti falling from the sky. Just… hope.
At the time, I was disappointed. Hope felt like such a small, vague word. A filler term you could toss into any sentence. Something you read in Hallmark cards. Not something powerful. Certainly not something life-changing.
But what does hope really mean?
The dictionary defines it as “a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.” The archaic version is even simpler: “a feeling of trust.” Back then, I didn’t fully understand the gravity of that word. But life would teach me.
Learning the Meaning of Hope
It took years for me to understand the privilege — and the responsibility — of receiving hope as a gift.
When my father died, I was 30 years old and pregnant with my second son. That loss rocked our family. My mother was left to care for my 13-year-old brother, while my sister and I tried to navigate our own grief. Amid that devastation, my mother learned she needed an emergency hysterectomy.
It was a dark, gray time. But somehow, I had hope. I believed that we would get through it. I trusted that God would carry us forward. Hope allowed me to support my mother while growing a new life inside me — it let me believe in the possibility of joy again.
That wouldn’t be the last time I’d lean on hope.
It was hope that carried me through a painful divorce and a pre-cancer diagnosis — both in the same year. At 34, I also had to undergo my own hysterectomy, closing the door on the possibility of having a daughter. That loss was deeply personal. Yet God had a plan I couldn’t see — He brought a beautiful 9-year-old stepdaughter into my life, and I had the privilege of helping raise her with her parents.
Later, when my aunt lost her husband to cancer, she and her two adult children came to live with us. Those years became some of the most cherished in my life. Even after she passed away from breast cancer eight years later, the memories we built remained.
And most recently, hope carried me through Jorge’s heart attack — a moment that shook us to the core.
The Gift That Floated Every Time
Hope floated every time. It wasn’t magic, and it didn’t erase pain or loss. But it was always there — steady, quiet, powerful. It reminded me that even in the middle of heartache, the sun would shine again.
I came to realize that this is what my gift truly was. Not just hope for myself — but the ability to give hope to others in their darkest moments. That’s the true power of hope: it’s contagious, healing, and deeply needed in this world.
Today, I’m profoundly grateful for that seemingly small gift I received as a teenager. God knew what He was doing. Hope has become not just part of my life — but part of my purpose.
Hope in Every Loop
That’s why the slogan for Abi Designs is “Hope in Every Loop.” It reflects more than just the art of crochet — where loops form the foundation of each handmade piece — it symbolizes how our lives are full of loops, twists, and turns that don’t always make sense.
But when we hold onto hope, those loops begin to take shape. They become something beautiful.
So… what is hope?
For me, it’s my lifeline. A deep trust that no matter what life brings, I can rest in the expectation that God is working it all for good — in His perfect timing.