I've always been…

 …funny.

I said this to my dad a few weeks ago after he critiqued my performance. (My feelings about this are a whole different post - maybe someday I'll share.) I don't remember exactly what he said, but I do remember looking him in the eye, standing taller than my normal 5'3", and with my most truest and sincerest voice saying, "That's not true. I've always been funny!"

And I was right.

This came up again a few days later when I got a message that the podcast I recorded with Susan & Cynthia of At Last She Said It (ALSSI) was ready and going to be posted the next day. I literally panicked. I wasn't going to listen to the podcast. I did anyway. I got through the first 5 minutes and started sobbing. (Maybe someday I'll talk about that specific experience.) After more sobbing, chatting with Amanda, and listening to the whole episode - a quiet, clear voice said, "I've always been smart."

And I was right.

Tuesday came. The episode dropped. My voice was heard and it mattered to people. I spent that week reading how other women resonated with my experiences. (So many women with the same traumatic church/God experiences - again a post for another day.) What? I wasn't the only one? I was so grateful. I answered their last podcast question, "What do you know?" with "My voice matters."

And I was right.

The ALSSI team posts quotes from the current episode on Instagram. Seeing words I said in print was surprising to me in an unexpected way. (I'm still processing my level of surprise - I'll chat about it soon.) I've loved it so much! "I've always been wise."

And I was right.

I've gathered up my wise words, my honest voice and put them here. 

So I can see them and remember…

I've always been wise. My voice has always mattered. I've always been smart.

And Dad, even though you've never bothered to listen or notice, I've always been damn funny.

At Last She Said It Podcast episode - Embracing Your Journey: A Conversation with Mary Cox

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/at-last-she-said-it/id1506045350?i=1000654796247

I will not be silent…

 …about THIS.

This Associated Press article has broken my heart and I can not keep silent for another moment.

(Trigger Warning for survivors of childhood sexual abuse [THIS] and those who love and support them in their path to healing and wholeness.)

There are quite a few things that I get angry about and yell into the void of my car about or rant to my support circle about — those things are not THIS.

THIS!? 

THIS causes me to want to burn it all to the ground -- the whole institution -- every patriarchal piece and every disgusting excuse for why victims aren't the most important part of this work we are here to do. 

There is no "love thy neighbor" if church representatives are using phrases like "did not report" and "money grab" in their talk about the victims.

For THIS I would stand on every rooftop and shout until not one more child would have to endure this terrifying torture in the name of "repentance" or "image" or "covenants" or "priesthood".


THIS is horrific, heinous, and absolutely not what the Gods and Jesus I believe in would tolerate for a moment — millstone+neck+sea — and all that.

There is no possible excuse for why reports can't be made about THIS and therefore children, youth, women, & the marginalized could be protected AT ALL COST!!!

Your great white churchy old ass is not more important than the life and souls of those who have endured so much in the name of your great white churchy old ass. THIS is not ok.

As a surviver of THIS who was not much older than the child in this story — my wounded inner child deserved a chance to speak, be heard — and most of all, be protected from THIS and those who attempt to hide it’s vile atrocities. She is why silence can not have a space here.

My soul is gutted and my shelf -- barely hanging on by a thread of hope.

I could yell some more, read more stories and tear down the wall of shame and blame, but what it boils down to is…

I want my voice to be heard on the side of the victims. 

Always.

Mormon leaders cover up sexual abuse. 

An incredibly wonderful foundation to support those who have suffered from childhood sexual abuse is Saprea. They have an amazing free retreat for women that has been instrumental in my healing.

Lest we…

 … forget.

I told the story yesterday to the sweet children I teach. 

"I'm going to tell you a really hard story that you might not have heard before. It's about terrorists (which we defined as the "bad guys") and heroes." 

Who are each of us - if we choose to be.

I as shared the general details of the timeline of 9/11/01 -- 10-12 years before any of them were born -- I started to cry. I reminded them that all emotions were ok and I let the tears flow.

As they listened, they interrupted with really tricky questions that they answered among themselves as they pieced it all together.

"How did the people get down from the top of the building?"
"They couldn't. There was too much fire."
"What happened to the people on the ground? Were they safe?"
"The building fell. They were under it."
"Did the trees burn in the field?"
"Of course they did, the plane was on fire."
"I thought the planes were empty."

"They had families on them."
"Why would they do that?"

"This makes my tummy not feel good."

They built the tragedy in their own minds, piece by difficult piece.

We looked at some photos of the smoke, the running, the crowds trying to get out, the dust covered streets and people, the empty skyline.

Then we spoke of the heroes. We watched a short video "Boatlift" about the massive efforts made by the the boats in the harbor that day to evacuate 500,000 people from Manhattan.

I would have loved to tell them about the miracles in Gander, New Foundland -- but that will have to wait for another time.

I would have loved to tell them about my day on 9/11/01 - what I was doing, how I felt, what I was worried about.

But they kept talking, asking questions, wanting to know more so that they could know how to remember.

It was beautiful.

How do I remember? Lest I forget?

I read a phrase today that made me stop and think - "performative patriotism." 

I have wrestled with "performative everything" the last few years -- reconstructing my faith, rebuilding my memories, and then making changes that more reflect who I really am and not who I've "performed as" my whole life.

I would define "performative" as anything I do with the intent to make it look "good" or "right" or "accepted" to everyone else while ignoring and dismissing my own soul thoughts and my own insight. Ignoring my own light.

Ignoring my soul for any reason is not how I want to live my life, I've been down that road and it's full of misery, expectation and obligation. I reject all of those.

Even with this post - I have worked all day to decide on why I should even comment today, why it was important to me, and how to get the thoughts of "I'm not a good American if I don't say something today." out of my head. 

How is this remembering real for me today?

The real for me looks like sobbing through all 11 minutes of "Boatlift" when I previewed it.

The real for me looks like being thankful I saw a plane in the sky today.

The real for me looks like subscribing to silly Apple TV+ so I can watch the Broadway musical "Come From Away" tomorrow and sob through that too. That show speaks to my soul on a Goddess level I cannot describe.

The real for me looks like learning that at the 9/11 Memorial they put a white rose on the names of the fallen on their birthday.

The real for me looks like being a little (maybe a lot) angry that patriotism is being used as a political weapon.

The real for me looks like wrestling with maybe not saying anything today and having that also be enough.

The real for me looks like talking about hard stories with children and hearing their sadness.

The real for me looks like thinking, choosing, breathing, and then writing. I had to. Lest we forget.

Twin Towers, flags, boats - they heard the hard story.

52 is the new…

 … ?

Every year as my birthday comes closer I find myself unwittingly doing an enormous amount of self-reflection. It’s a painful, but healing process and I get to hold the paradox of that experience.

Some years I am lonely, some years I feel a heavy regret, and some years I am curled up in a ball of depression. I’m all over the emotional map during my birthday time and I’ve learned to embrace that process. 

Where am I this year? What have I done? Am I who I want to be? Is there a stagnancy in my goals? Have I checked in with the desires of my heart? There are so many questions that my soul seeks answers to. 

I don’t think I have answers to these questions, but my learning has taught me how to sit with the question and wait for the answer to come. 

I’m waiting - but not stagnant - I’m moving, growing, changing, being, and most of all thriving. 

The world has been so damned hard these last few years. I’ve listened to the lived experiences of so many whose lives are unlike mine. I have heard their stories and have had my heart changed. 

Not just my heart - my whole being. 

My mind is open and learning new ways to think and absorb information. 

My heart is bigger for having heard the cries of both those around me and of my own soul. 

My soul is strengthened by leaning into and looking at the truth of my personal trauma-filled childhood. 

My body has shifted and is now a tool for adventure and actually an active participant in living a life instead of only surviving a life from the sidelines. 

With all this change - all this movement, all this living and breathing life in - is 52 the new 22? 32? 42?

Do I want to relive those years with this new mind, body, and soul? How would I do it differently? Could I do it differently? 

Should I do it differently is the actual question that sits on my soul. If I could have - should I have changed the course of my life at 22, 32, or 42?

Without the naivety and bravery of 22 - I would be missing my teammate and these delightful 4 children whom I adore with my whole soul and who I have the honor of learning from. I wouldn’t give that up for all the future living I could do. 52 is NOT the new 22. 

Without extending (and often over extending) myself at 32, I would have never heard the voices of 100’s of children that sang love and peace to my heart. Their faces, their smiles, their wiggles, their earnest desire to feel the gift of music was in turn a gift to my very being. I still sing “Everything is possible if you try” - because there is truth in those words. 32 heard those little voices bravely belt “Why we sing” with their whole hearts and I would be missing a piece of my heart without their voices ringing through it. 52 is NOT the new 32.  

At 42 I was gifted with becoming acquainted with some of the greatest humans on earth - Band Parents. There is a bond between band parents that is forged with love and sacrifice. We see the gift that band is for our children and we do the work to provide them the opportunities to stretch themselves and find out who they really are. In turn, we are gifted with amazing humans who support each other and we validate and are witnesses of the sacrifice we share together. Then there are the band students - the heart of the program - I love those children and was so grateful to have mentored and loved them the best I could. They taught 42 year old Mary what unconditional love is all about and I would not have survived without their gift. 52 is NOT the new 42. 

So then - if 52 is not 22, 32, or 42 -- the question becomes clearer - what IS the real 52?

52 is the beach

52 is mountain air

52 is running in the rain

52 is love is love is love

52 is new choices

52 is zipping in the trees

52 is a new body I love

52 is a new view

52 is breathing in life and breathing out pain. ❤️

52 IS the new 52. 

Happy Birthday to ME!

My Voice says…

…that it's time to speak.

My voice is not going to change anyone’s mind about the 2020 Presidential Election.

My voice, though, might encourage another voice to be brave and share what they feel is right for America during this 2020 election.

My voice speaks the following with a deep breath, a little fear, and the desire to share what I have learned and how I have felt this year.

My voice says that I LOVE the Biden/Harris sign in my yard. It was my first step into political bravery and I have been pleasantly surprised at the aftermath.

I have had friends state that my sign gives them courage to also put up a sign. DO IT.

I’ve had strangers yell their encouragement from their cars as they pass by. THANK YOU.

It has sparked pleasant and thoughtful conversations with my children. SO GREAT.

I absolutely out loud cheer when I see a new Biden/Harris sign in my neighborhood. I SEE YOU.

Those who don’t agree have only talked to/complained to/questioned my husband. Honestly - it’s disappointing that my Biden/Harris sign now makes me so scary and unapproachable that you can’t have a conversation with me about my political thoughts/leanings. Is that your loss? Probably.

My voice says and my heart believes that Roe vs. Wade should stay intact and that the rhetoric that spews Pro-Choice = “baby killer” is both completely wrong and lacks fundamental critical thinking. I believe that both lives matter. The life of the baby is not MORE important than the life of the mother. I am not qualified to judge that woman’s life, nor should I dare say what she is capable of, nor should I burden her with my standards/understanding that she might not have. Education is the answer. Love, compassion, empathy, and education.

My voice speaks of integrity, compassion, empathy, character and respect. Leaders, who care about those they are guiding, will use these traits when leading, because they are found deep in their soul and they have taken a lifetime to learn and practice. Of course I’m not expecting perfection, but I do expect simple human kindness. I expect treating humanity humanely. It’s the lowest of expectations in a leader - simple human kindness. Donald Trump is unkind. He lacks integrity. He has shown very little respect to anyone he speaks about. Compassion and empathy are missing from his interviews, speeches, and Twitter comments. He has been spewing hate and divisive words for years. Why is that ok? Why are we accepting constant unkindness? I will not. I can not. Integrity, compassion, empathy, character and respect matter to me and without those I can not trust you.

My voice is angry at the Republican Party for hiding in their love for power and money. From my point of view, the money and power you thrive off of is more important than me. Where are you? Why aren’t you standing up for the people in whom you claim to serve. Where is your voice of human kindness? I have Andy Biggs and his anti-mask campaign trying to convince me that verified science is not important and we can just pick and choose who we expose literal death to. People will die if we don’t show simple kindness and wear a mask. I would love to see my party representatives stand up and truly represent me. 

My voice is yelling from the rooftops - WE ARE IN A WORLDWIDE PANDEMIC FOLKS!!! It sucks and it’s really hard for everyone. Even with the hard, we need to stop expecting normalcy - it left us after the first 10,000 people died. Then 50,000 - and now 220,000+ people have died and their families and friends are suffering. We shouldn’t normalize suffering. We have the capability to adjust our lives. We have the strength to endure. We can look hard straight in the eye and say - I’ve got this! We have or should find the “love your neighbor as yourself” commandment and actually use it to love our neighbor. So, love your neighbor and wear your mask.

My voice could speak of so many more societal issues that are causing so much pain to our fellow humans - Black Lives Matter, police brutality, LGBTQ+ inequality, systemic racism, white supremacy.

Why use my voice at all? If my solitary voice won’t really do any good nor will it move mountains or change anyone’s mind - why speak? Why share? Why be brave? For this IS brave.

Because this moment requires me to use my voice to speak for myself. To stand up for what I know and what I have learned and how my thoughts and opinions have morphed and changed as I have listened to the voices of others. I want my position and my opinion to be known. 

My voice matters and that is enough for me to find the courage to share. Love is always the answer.

We need space…

…for loss…

As the world feels like it's been turned upside down, we are coming together as a society even though we can't actually come together. And I am eternally grateful. So, so grateful.

Music has been shared.
Ideas have been gathered.

We have served with kindness.
We have tried to find another way to live, communicate, and thrive.

There is encouragement.
There is an underlying level of hope.

There is also loss.
So. Much. Loss.

But is there space to express our loss?
Are we giving ourselves permission to feel the grief over the immense loss we are all experiencing?

Are we deciding that there are lesser and greater levels of loss and ours isn't enough loss to count?
Is there shame-filled self-talk creating untruths that we are believing about our personal loss?


If it's important to you - IT MATTERS - period. And the loss of whatever mattered to you should have a space to be expressed.

But we're not expressing it.

We are trying to "stay positive" - "express gratitude that it's not worse" - "help our fellow men" - and it's good - that's all really, really good.

Everything has a light and shadow to it: rain floods and gives life, snow crushes and is full of play, sun burns and breathes life into the earth.

If we fail to acknowledge the shadow of things, then I feel that we miss an important piece of the learning. We miss the opposition that allows the light to really shine and stick where it needs to.


My Shadows. My Loss.

I didn't realize that the daily silence of my semi-empty-nester home was actually feeding my soul and helping me to calm the constant pull of my brain to keep DOING. Do more, do better, do quicker, do smarter - so much doing in my brain that was being quieted by the silence and the ability to hear the beating of my heart.

I was listening to my heart, changing patterns, learning, modifying my thoughts to be more inline with what my heart was telling me. It was working and I was discovering the methods I need to thrive instead of just survive.

Now my house is full. It's noisy. There is panic. There are unknowns.
Now my brain is full. It's noisy. There is panic. There are unknowns.

I love my people with my whole heart. I'm glad they are happy and safe here and that this is a place they can always be themselves. They get what they need; love, affection, humor, acceptance. I am grateful -- really, truly grateful.

But there is also loss. Great loss. I've had to find a different way to listen to my heart. I've had to adapt and struggle to not revert back to old patterns of behavior that stifle my thrive - behaviors that ignore my heart.

I have to work so much harder for the silence that was a gift just a few moments ago. It's tiring. It's hard work. My desire and need for silence is important to me - IT MATTERS! And now there is loss.


My heart was crushed when my sweet daughter came in sobbing because her wedding plans were blown up. She had worked so hard to conquer her anxiety and create an event that would bring her joy. She had prayed and asked her heart hard questions. She had discovered what she needed and had bravely asked for those pieces to be present. She made choice after choice after choice. She did so great!! She was proud of herself and she had triumphed over her own shadows.

And in a moment, everything changed and all of those previous painstaking choices were null and void -- as though they didn't matter -- her efforts and learning didn't matter. Instead, there was constant change, chaos, and uncontrollable limbo. So many unanswered questions, so many details to change, so many decisions to remake -- so much complete loss.

Through tears she said, "I didn't know I wanted to be the center of attention for just one moment." This coming from my shy, anxiety-filled daughter who usually stays comfortably in the shadows. Oh how she deserves that moment in the spotlight!! The celebration of a marriage is important - it shines brightly - love flows freely -- she wanted to be wrapped up in that shine and love.

My Mother heart is breaking for her and her real, true loss. This is important to her - IT MATTERS! It matters without comparison to any other loss that anyone else has.


I was given a hard challenge by my therapist to learn how to play. To discover play that does not have the hat of "taking care of others" or "the easiest/cheapest plan" or "we'll do what's best for the group" -- but personal play that was just for me, Mary. Not Mom Mary, or Daughter Mary, or Wife Mary, or Helper Mary, or Fixit Mary - just Mary, the one with the dimples, dark hair, and a heart that is learning to live.

I didn't know how I was going to accomplish this - too much, too overwhelming, too many choices.

Then a miracle - an inspired friend, who was also being brave, said - "Do you want to meet me in New York?"

I LOVE the idea of wandering the streets of New York and watching the people. Figuring out how it all moves in sync, how it all connects together to form this rush of energy. I LOVE the art of Broadway, the talent both on the stage and behind the scenes. It's fascinating. It's PLAY.

Could I? Should I? My heart leapt at the thought -- and then my head started making 1,000 excuses as to why I couldn't and shouldn't. I struggled with myself, my head overpowering what my heart needed -- and then, finally, trusting my heart to know what I needed to heal -- and learn to play.

As I was checking the flights and agonizing over the choices, I kept backing out and trying again - backing out and trying again. Keep breathing Mary, you got this!

The tickets got purchased, the hotel was booked, and the show tickets bought. Whew!! I was so EXCITED!!! I was DOING THIS!! I was PLAYING!!

Never had I gone anywhere where I only had to take care of myself, where there was no one else to keep track of, no one else to have to please with my choices. My companion is a capable adult whose knowledge, experience, and friendship, would only add to the joy of this opportunity to play. What an incredible gift I was giving myself - I was trying on this PLAY thing full out - I'm all in - watch out NY, I'm on my way!!! So much excitement!!

Then there was loss.

Loss I can't control. Loss that didn't ask my permission. Loss that didn't offer up any other non-loss options. Loss with no choice.

I had worked so hard - listened to my heart - stopped my head from winning - I was choosing Mary.

I WAS CHOOSING MARY!!

I have to say that louder for the voices in the back of my head that are now screaming -- I TOLD YOU SO - NOT THE RIGHT CHOICE - YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS.

This loss instantly feels so defeating -- like "you shouldn't even have tried." The loss is getting louder by the day and I need a space to give it a voice so it can lose some of it's deafening and defeating power.

I am so incredibly SAD about this trip!! I really, really want to take off all of the hats that Mary wears and just be herself for four days. I want to discover who she is when she gets to thrive and choose for herself. To walk through an airport at whatever pace I want. Stop and look at the stores and the signs and the people who have stories and lives. Who is Mary when there are no expectations and no obligations other than breathing and soaking in the life around her? Answering that question is important to me - IT MATTERS!!

So much loss. It's heartbreaking and soul crushing.


So do me, and yourself, a favor - before you tell me that there will be more silence, the wedding will be fine, and the trip can be taken in the future…

Feel my loss. Feel the loss of my sweet daughter. Feel the loss of the high school seniors. Feel the loss of the kindergarten children. Feel the loss of jobs. Feel the loss of life. Feel the loss of security. Feel the loss of normalcy. Feel the loss of comfort. Feel the loss of choice.

Take a moment and give yourself permission to feel your own loss. They are great. There are things that are important to you - THEY MATTER! Your loss matters and I'm sorry you are hurting.

Lean into the loss - feel the pain - understand it's depth. It's ok - you won't drown, you won't get lost in it, and it won't stay too long.

Because there is light.

There is light in a new day. There is light in breath. There is light in a different choice.

There is light in a new plan for play in New York. There is light in a smaller wedding that will still celebrate this sweet couple. There is light in finding silence on the back porch.

By giving space for loss - there is also more space for light.

Easter Talk…

…here is HOPE.

This is a talk I gave on Easter Sunday 2019. At the end of my talk I ended with my testimony by singing Here Is Hope. The lyrics are included here - but the Rob Gardner recording is incredibly beautiful. Completely worth the listen.

In order to talk about what I know and how I feel about the Resurrection - I need to share a little about my spiritual journey. 

There comes a time in each of our lives where we need to do what I call “rebuild our spirituality”. That action, that rebuilding, looks different for everyone. The catalyst for spiritual rebuilding is individual. Rebuilding our spirituality allows each of us to learn, grow, listen, find, change, but most importantly choose. I can only speak and share what that rebuilding looks like for me.

From my earliest memories, I have created a spiritual tower — and in my mind it looks like a tower built with the wooden building blocks from kindergarten — labeled with testimony, Holy Ghost, temples, prophets, tithing, family, love, Heavenly Father, Jesus, modesty, right/wrong, perfection, judgement, service, and selflessness — and so many others. 

For the most part, this original tower has served me well, until it wasn’t — until I didn’t really know what I had in my tower, why it was there, or how I was using it. 

It tumbled - the whole tower crashed down to the ground. What I had known about my spirituality was scattered - every piece was upended and in disarray. I felt lost, abandoned, disillusioned, and spiritually weary. 

I didn’t know the perfect answer to my spiritual disaster, I didn’t know where to start healing, and I didn’t know if I would be successful if I tried. Through all the worry, there was one thought that kept me from running away and ignoring those blocks all over the ground.

HOPE in Jesus Christ.

“He is not here; he has risen, as he said.”  — that is HOPE is Jesus Christ.

“He is not here, BUT is risen.” — that is HOPE in Jesus Christ.

This HOPE in Jesus Christ has given me the courage to start to rebuild my spiritual tower with Jesus Christ as the foundational piece. And HOPE being the very next block.

I’m sure some of you are thinking — duh — of course that is the way to do it — we talk about it, we sing about it, we should know that. Jesus Christ is our sure foundation.

Sure, maybe I did know it — but did I feel it. Did I feel the peace, strength, and HOPE that only the Savior of the world can provide? 

That is why rebuilding my spiritual tower now is so different, I’m using my agency to choose where the pieces go, and to choose what is most important to me. I’m using personal revelation to feel and understand and build a spiritual tower that is all mine. It doesn’t look like anyone else — and that’s the way it should be.

With that new spiritual tower in my mind and with Jesus Christ as the foundation, I looked at both the word Resurrection and the event of the Resurrection. How did I feel about the event? What was the most important part to me?

The story of the Resurrection is beautiful and engaging and I loved the account in Jesus The Christ. I have never even cracked that book open, fearing that the big words and details would be overwhelming to me and I would learn nothing. I took Phillip’s advice and read most of Chapter 37, The Resurrection and the Ascension. Try it. It’s not too much. It paints a story of love, kindness, compassion, sisterhood, brotherhood, but most of all HOPE.

For me, the soldiers and the angels at the tomb tell of HOPE. 

The women coming to anoint the body of Jesus, but finding nothing but an angel of God speaks of HOPE. 

The disciples rushing to the tomb to find only pieces of cloth looks like HOPE. 

Sweet Mary staying behind to mourn her loss, but being comforted by angels shows HOPE. 

Jesus Christ showing so much love and compassion for Mary - “Woman, why weepest thou?” he asks — then showing himself to her to ease her broken heart — that is a PROMISE of HOPE.

The Resurrection equals HOPE. The Resurrection is the pure love of our Savior -- to us. In my mind, when I hear or see the word resurrection, I only see the Son of God, loving us unconditionally. I see his face and feel his love and HOPE.

The HOPE of the Resurrection can be testified to each of us in many different ways. It’s uniqueness and individuality, is what makes the Resurrection of Jesus Christ so beautiful, so poignant, so sacred to each of us.

If you have lost a child or a spouse — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you comfort.

If you have suffered at the hand of another — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you healing.

If you are struggling with depression or anxiety — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you guidance.

If the confusion between culture and doctrine is causing doubt and heart anguish — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you peace.

If you are looking for answers — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you knowledge.

If you are fighting to learn of the power of agency — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you strength.

If you are beginning to believe that you have value, that you are worthy just like you are — the HOPE of the Resurrection can bring you love.

That’s what I know on this Easter Sunday — HOPE in Jesus Christ will save us.

I KNOW that the Savior of the World loves each one of us, today, right now, exactly how we are. The HOPE he provides will help us to rise when we fall, feel when we are empty, love when we are in pain, and find a glimmer of hope when we feel all is lost.

We can feel his hope today, HERE.

As part of my spiritual rebuilding I have looked for ways to feel the Savior more in my life. I’ve been searching for signs of HOPE to help myself connect it all together in my heart. In Rob Gardner’s Lamb Of God, there is a beautiful song sung by Mary, the mother of Jesus entitled — Here is Hope. As I listened to his concert last week, the words of this song touched my soul and made HOPE come alive for me. Not only is this song talking about the love and sacrifice the Savior made for us then - but I also think it can apply to the here and now. 

Here is HOPE. HERE the Savior can heal our sorrows and carry our burdens. He and the HOPE he brings is our victory. Here, today, the resurrection of the Savior of the World can bring us light and life. 

He is HOPE. 

Here is HOPE.

Here is Hope - from Rob Gardner’s “Lamb of God”

He who healed our sorrows

Here was bruised and broken.

He whose love no end knows

Here was forsaken,

Left all alone.

Here despair cries boldly,

Claiming this its vict’ry.

Sweeter peace enfolds me:

Hope did not die here,

But here was given.

Here is Hope.

He who was rejected,

He knows well my longing

He, so long expected

Carried our burdens,

Bore ev’ry sorrow:

Here, here, here is Hope!

Spoken:

Here is love unbounded,

Here is all compassion,

Here is mercy founded!

Hope did not die here,

But here was given;

And ours is the vict’ry.

Here is Hope.