The surgeon said the situation was potentially retrievable BUT that it would be a bumpy road. I called that hope. At that crossroads in my life, I started down the road of hope.
There is a crossroads of four single track roads deep in Sutherland, just beyond Altnaharra. There is a signpost there with the word ‘Hope’ on it and an arrow. There are no details of how many miles it is to Hope. There is a hamlet called Hope, a mountain called Ben Hope and a loch called Loch Hope. I once took that road, and it mirrored my journey of hope through cancer.
It is a bumpy road, a twisty road, a road often with no distant view. Uncertainty is always there on the road to hope. The road crosses miles of open moorland with not much except heather peat and moss. The road to hope is not easy; it has slow sections where not much happens. Bleakness was followed by symbols of abandonment: a cottage, its roof long gone stood on a hillock and a broch from long ago stands by the road. It is battered but standing. Flowers and lichens are growing on the old stones, tiny shreds of beauty, life and hope. The road to hope is a struggle. It takes its toll.
Ben Hope rises 2000 feet above the road but, as I pass, it is dark in the deep shadow of a cloud, a reminder of the uphill journey into dark places. The road surface is suddenly gone. The ‘road’ rumbles across shingle from a river which had flooded the road. There are always setbacks. A bridge lies beyond, and Hope is still out there somewhere, not that there have been any other signposts. There is seemingly no other traffic, few people are travelling the same road. Doubts creep in. The road is narrowing, the bracken growing in, the grass is taking over the middle of the road. Will it peter out? Will Hope vanish?
Suddenly, it is lighter. The clouds are lifting, and I can see a grassy hill ahead. There are sheep by and on the road. Rowan and birch appear – a sign of renewal, a sign of Hope. I arrive at the hamlet and the loch but what moves me is the blue sky. Shortly after, I see a vista of the sea and the white surf of the waves. Hope fulfilled and hope beyond hope.
Hope is a journey. We all make these journeys at different times and the road may be hard. I made it back to health. The surgeon was right, though – it was a very bumpy road with chemo, sepsis, operations and more. Thanks to the expert hands of the surgeon, I recovered. The prayers of family and friends kept me on the road to hope. Faith kept me on that road. I felt that my life was safe in the palm of God’s hand. There is hope beyond hope, a glimpse of heaven.