You cannot leave the comfort of your home and expect to return the same.
That is not how life works.
When I left for El Salvador I knew this trip would change me.
Perhaps this is why I was hesitant to go.
I am tired of change.
The last few years have been nothing but change.
Dreams have changed.
What I thought my life would become has changed.
Relationships have changed.
Prayers have changed.
I’ve changed.

Change is tiring, but most things that are worth it leave us exhausted with a full heart.

I didn’t know if I could handle another change, but I also knew I couldn’t say no to this trip.

So, I went.

We met several families who lived miles off the main roads, tucked deep in the green forests of El Salvador. There they cared for their children, raised their animals, and took care of each other's needs. They lived quiet lives. The kind I dream of living, but without internet connection I’d have no idea how to grow a garden or butcher a chicken or know which bugs could kill me.

We sat on their porches or stood in their homes and learned their stories. When you asked them how they were, they didn’t respond with the most overused response in America: Busy. They smiled and told us they were doing well. They said they were blessed. They said they were hopeful. They said it with their hands and their smile and their eyes.

There is a verse in the Bible, Matthew 6, that I am often tempted to skip.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life …”

Maybe you know why I want to skip it.

I’m good at being anxious.
I’m good at worrying without peace.
I’m good at moving into tomorrow before finishing today.
I’m good at looking at what is to come and growing anxious about it.
If overthinking was an Olympic sport, I’d have more gold medals than you.

While spending time with the people of El Salvador I noticed how they weren’t anxious about their life. They were present with hope. Some didn’t have running water or food or a safe place to use the restroom, but they were present with hope.

They showed me something I needed to see.

I spent most of this trip in tears. They weren’t pity or sympathetic tears. My most honest response to their stories were shivers up my arms and tears in my eyes. When you sit with someone who has known such heartbreak and heaviness, yet clings to a love so big and endless you cannot help but be moved to tears.

While listening to their stories I couldn’t help but be amazed by their resilient joy. They’ve navigated uphill obstacles and lived through endless uncertainty, but woke each morning trusting good is on the way. To them, hope isn’t a fluffy word or good idea, but a promise that sustains as it draws them closer to the faithfulness of God.

And maybe that’s what hope does.

Hope reminds us we do not have to be anxious about our life or afraid of change, but we can let go, not know, and trust God will continue to lead us to grow.

About the Author

Tanner Olson is an author, poet, speaker, and podcaster living in Nashville, Tennessee.

He is the author of I’m All Over the Place, As You Go, Walk A Little Slower, and Continue: Poems and Prayers of Hope.

You can find Tanner Olson’s books on Amazon.

His podcast is The Walk A Little Slower Podcast with Tanner Olson and can be found wherever you listen to podcasts.

Tanner Olson travels around the country sharing poetry, telling stories, and delivering messages of hope.

You can follow Tanner Olson on Instagram (@writtentospeak) and Facebook where you’ll daily find encouraging words of faith and hope.