Highly compatible, Larry and my strength was in our ability to merge our individual gifts into one, which enhanced our ability to discern God’s will and purposes for our life together. Faith, hope and love were the foundation of our marriage.
I grew up in an optimistic household. Larry grew up under the influence of his pessimistic father. I saw the world through rose-colored glasses; he saw a gloomier side! We learned to balance my optimism and his pessimism: I realized too much optimism can lead to the denial of facing situations realistically; Larry tamed his cynicism, replacing it with more positive reasoning without ignoring the reality of situations. It is through positive reasoning, faith and love that we found the power of real hope without denying the truth of the reality of seemingly impossible situations.
When our journey began we never expected to arrive at the places God led us. Our decision to adopt was based on the optimistic false premise that “all children needed were love and a good environment and they would thrive.” We were led to believe our children were healthy, when in reality; two were born with brain damage that would marginalize and stigmatize them for life.
Although we lived in denial for a while, we realized God gifted us with children who redefined our lives and ministry: opening our hearts, souls and minds to a greater love and compassionate understanding for those who live with the realities of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, mental illness, autism, homelessness, incarceration, addiction, suicide, racism, and injustices toward all who are marginalized by society. We responded to the truth of the realities of their lives by loving, living, growing and finding meaning in the cataclysmic events they too often encounter. We became a voice for the voiceless and advocates for justice.
Larry’s death skewed my balance. Presently, while in the midst of a catastrophic event, my feelings of hopelessness are often paralyzing as I struggle at the crossroads between hope and despair. Hope goes deeper than optimism. It requires recognizing my feelings of hopelessness, and for me to put things into perspective and acknowledge the truth of situations. Minimizing what is real and true is futile. In despair I cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22): followed by the comfort and hope of Psalm 23. I reach out to others for prayer and assurance. Most importantly, my faith reminds me that the real power of hope lays in the source of all hope — God.
As a society, we are living in a world filled with great fear, suffering and turmoil that often feels paralyzing and empty of hope. Fear and hope seem to be in a never-ending struggle: in the world; in our nation and in each of us. We desperately want to feel confident that everything will be alright, and we can learn to live together in the world with peace, love and compassion.
True hope thrives in the empty places of our lives. Hope is not wishful thinking, but the expectation of moving beyond today: trusting, working and waiting for the time when the promises of God will be fully realized. May we always remember that the power of real hope lays in the source of all hope — God!
• Laura Rorem writes to honor her husband, Pastor Larry Rorem’s legacy of love, compassion and understanding for all humankind, especially the most vulnerable.
