Say “woohoo” because there’s hope

The doorbell rang one day. I was slumping about in the big house I had just purchased in Minnesota. It was going to be the dream home for the children and me. The problem was, Shane had been killed the day after I closed the deal. Now Nichole and I were rambling around wondering what to do.

I answered the door. The FedEx man asked me to sign for a delivery. I did. And he handed me a large cardboard box. I brought it into the living room and put it down without opening it up. I didn’t get excited about much of anything back then. I was sad and angry. People, my readers, said they liked my writing because it gave them hope.

The problem was, I didn’t have any of that hope for myself. I couldn’t see how life could or would ever make any kind of sense again. The one thing I wanted—my son alive and well, and my family intact—would not ever come to pass.

One day I got around to opening that big cardboard box. I took a knife, sliced it down the center, and looked at what was inside. It was filled with stuffed animals. A big green parrot with a fuzzy beak was sitting on top.

There were monkeys, bears, and assorted things. They didn’t look brand new, but they were happy, cheerful little things. I took out the card and read the note inside. This is what it said:

“I make my living out of taking all the stuffed animals that people throw away. Then I take them home and clean them up. I guess I like doing it just to prove a point,” the woman wrote.

“Sometimes, we start thinking something’s no good anymore, so we throw it in the trash. Sometimes we throw things away too quickly, but all they really need is a little tender, loving care to bring them back to life. I heard about your son’s death. I thought maybe getting a box of my reborn animals might help.”

Many years have passed since then. I’ve gotten rid of a lot of my possessions, especially when I moved from Minnesota to California in 1994. But one of the things I’ve held on to—in fact he’s still sitting in this room with me next to my desk—is the happy green parrot with the big fuzzy beak.

He’s a gentle reminder that even something as broken and scraggly as I was can be brought back to life again. Some things in life are true, whether we believe them or not.

Hope is one of those things.

Even if you have to say it in disbelief, say woohoo.

God, help me believe in me as much as you do. Thanks for getting me through those tough spots when I lose my faith.

From the book: More Language of Letting Go

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