I often reflect and speak about one of my first interactions with a family accessing service at the Center Against Family Violence in El Paso, where I served as an Executive Director. The first time I saw Mary and her four children she was huddled in fear, overwhelmed with the circumstances that brought them into shelter and complexities that were emerging from seeking freedom from her abusive relationship.

Mary and her family soon became an interest to me, perhaps it was that I was so new in my role at the program that I clung onto this family’s story and followed their progress. And what I saw wasn’t quite what I assumed would be the reaction to the trauma that had foreshadowed.

Mary and her family held steadfastly to their faith while trying to comprehend how life could continue. They had lost their home, all their modest possessions, but above all their safety. 

Hope is often many things. From the textbook definition a feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best to what many poets and writers have tried to capture through words and stories.

One of the most famous is Emily Dickinson’s thought that hope is a link to the soul and is everlasting.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
and sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all…

But to me, a novice advocate at best, hope is the replacement of despair and fear in the eyes of women and children like Mary and her family with trust and comfort and the possibility that families like Mary’s can regain their independence and identity as empowered.

Five years later, Mary did not simply earn her GED, but she earned it with superior scores.  She pushed herself to excel and now is a successful entrepreneur.  Mary’s resiliency not only propelled her to overcome each of the obstacles she faced, but also challenged herself to expect greater.

And isn’t that after all, the hope we all share?

By Gloria Terry
President, TCFV