19/04/2026
https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1DPxDPtWKu/?mibextid=wwXIfr
We walk our own Emmaus roads,
not out of a city,
but through waiting rooms,
through inboxes we refresh too often,
through days that hinge on news
that hasn’t come yet.
We had hoped.
That the results would be enough.
That the test would come back clear.
That the job offer would land.
That the door would open
the way we planned it.
We had hoped
for a different ending.
We carry it with us,
the what ifs,
the almosts,
the silence where an answer should be,
turning it over in our minds
until it feels worn thin.
And we keep on going.
Putting one foot in front of the other,
having the conversations,
showing up,
even when part of us
has already begun to brace
for disappointment.
And not always recognised,
not always named,
but present
in the middle of the ordinary,
someone walks with us
In the waiting.
In the wondering.
In the quiet ache
of not knowing.
He listens
to the story we’re telling ourselves,
the one where everything depends
on how this turns out,
and gently holds it
in something wider.
Not dismissing the hope,
not brushing aside the fear,
but staying close
while it all unfolds.
Something shifts,
not the situation,
not the outcome,
but within us.
A steadiness.
A warmth.
A sense that we are not
walking this alone.
And sometimes
it’s only later we realise
he was there all along,
in the waiting,
in the not yet,
in the space between
what we hoped for
and what came.
We had hoped.
And maybe we still can,
not in the outcome alone,
but in the One
who walks beside us
whatever the result.
Because even here,
on this uncertain road,
we are not alone.
© E Hamilton 2026
