The Gift Of Hope
The holiday season is often described as a time of joy and togetherness, but for many of us, it can also be a season of deep emotion and struggle. Amidst the rush to create a festive atmosphere, there can be feelings of fear, loneliness, and uncertainty. For those of us in the recovery community, whether we’re navigating our own journey or supporting someone we love, this season can be especially challenging with longing, uncertainty, and worry. This Christmas, I offer you the gift of hope and encourage you to embrace it.
As Desmond Tutu wisely said, “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Hope isn’t always easy to hold onto. I consider myself an optimist by nature, someone who tries to find the bright side even in the darkest moments. But there were times in my own recovery journey, and in watching my loved ones struggle, when the progress I prayed for didn’t happen, or setbacks seemed to undo all we had worked toward. On those days, it was hard to wake up, gather my strength, and face the challenges again. But I learned something important: hope is as essential to recovery as air is to breathing. It’s what helps us move forward, even when we feel like we’ve been knocked down again and again.
Over the last few years, I’ve had the privilege of getting to know the remarkable young men who have lived at Woodhaven on Mulberry. They didn’t arrive here confident or full of promise; they came burdened with regret, shame, and low self-worth. I’ve also met their parents, who often felt beaten down by fear and disappointment, unsure if hope was even worth clinging to.
And yet, hope found its way into their lives. I’ve watched these boys grow into incredible young men—sensitive, kind, empathetic, fun, and goal-oriented. Some have gone away to college and found tremendous success. Others have returned home and are excelling in their lives. Just this week, one received an academic award that made his entire family beam with pride—and our community shared that pride too. Others have stayed at Woodhaven on Mulberry or in another local residence, where they’ve developed life skills that far exceed many their age. They go to college, work, volunteer in the community, and find joy in the camaraderie of their recovery family.
Their parents have transformed, too. Once weighed down by fear of the next phone call or unmet expectations, they’ve discovered the strength that hope provides. Sometimes, they borrowed that hope—from their sons, from professionals, or from other families who walked this path before them. We also read these stories in literature and hear about them in meetings, finding inspiration and guidance for our own journeys. Over time, these parents have learned to carry hope themselves.
At Woodhaven, we often say we are a haven for hope and healing because hope is what makes healing possible. It’s what transforms fear into action, shame into acceptance, and doubt into belief. If it helps, garner some hope from the stories of these young men and their families—stories that remind us that transformation is possible and that light can shine even in the darkest times.
This holiday season, I encourage you to reflect on where you find hope. If it feels out of reach right now, lean on someone who has walked this journey. Borrow their hope until you can find your own. Hope isn’t just a gift for this season—it’s a gift for every day to come.
Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy Chanukah, filled with peace, healing, and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.
