The Hope Chronicles

Feb 3, 2021 by Jeanette Hanscome

On Day 1 of the Stay-at-Home order I started a new journal and titled it “The Virus Diaries” with the subtitle, “Remember When We Thought This Would Last FOREVER?” I considered it my contribution to an historic time, even though I’ve given my family strict orders to have a ceremonial burning of all my journals when I die. My hope was that the end of the pandemic would coincide with me turning the last page of that journal, just like in a movie. A miracle like that seemed almost biblical.

When I reached the last page just in time for the Summer Wave, I was so mad! As a writer, I know the rules of a satisfying ending, and that did not meet the criteria. It bugged me that I would be writing “The Virus Diaries, Volume 2: Now This Really Does Feel Like Forever.” I clung to hope that this would not become a trilogy.

I completed the last page of the second journal three days before New Year, in the middle of The Holiday Surge.

Enter Journal #3.

I flat out refused to title it “The Virus Diaries, Volume 3” with the subtitle, “Seriously? If This Really Were a Book, I Would Throw it Across the Room.”

My word for 2021 is Hope. Another Virus Diary did not line up with that word.

So I titled it “The Hope Chronicles.”

About two months into the pandemic, a very wise woman encouraged me to think of hope as a muscle that needs to be exercised. The more we exercise it, the stronger it gets. So that’s what I’m doing. Chronicling my experience of exercising hope at a time when we’re all beyond weary. The journal includes Bible verses, exciting things that God does to show me that isolation is being used for good, and yes, also some honest whining on days when hope is hard to find in the confusion of “Yay, there’s a vaccine! But we only have five doses. Sorry.” and concerns over variants that only confirm why we all need to get the vaccine when it’s our turn, which might not be until next June.

I didn’t chronicle the conversation I had with Mom last night, about the recommendations for Super Bowl parties, because I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to hold a pen. But something about knowing that everyone in America laughed over “PLEASE, do not attend a Super Bowl party, but if you do, avoid all cheering and shouting” made me feel strangely hopeful. It’s comforting to know we can all agree that “Please don’t, but if you do,” and picturing guys in team jerseys, sipping tea (alcohol was also a “Please don’t, but if you do” no-no, because one might forget to put their mask back on, which won’t be a concern if one is only eating nachos) and responding to a great play by doing nothing is hilarious. It’s a reminder that we’re all so tired that we’re getting silly.

I haven’t decided if I’ll allow “The Virus Diaries” and “The Hope Chronicles” to be exceptions to “Please burn my journals when I die. Trust me, you don’t want to see those samples of my writing.” Even if they’re just for me, they served a beautiful purpose. If nothing else, they allowed me to record this historic time for myself. I know the growth that’s reflected on those pages. Each new entry starts on a new page (unless I’m adding an update on the same day, such as, “California’s Colored Tier system will now be replaced with a Chutes and Ladders board”), to remind me that God’s mercies are new every morning. Sometimes I ask Him to send some evidence of that, and He does.

That journal is my hope muscle.

Someday all three journals will be stacked neatly in an undisclosed location. The pandemic will be over, and I’ll have a mask tucked away, so if I ever have grandchildren, and they start complaining about how restricted their life is, I can take it out and tell them a story about what it really feels like to suffer. (I know, “Never compare pain.” But I’ve heard grandparents have a free pass from that.) Those journals, and even that tattered old mask, will be my reminder that hard times—including those that seem to last forever—end. That God’s mercies really are new every morning.

How are you holding on to hope right now? What are you doing to track God’s mercies during this crazy time?