Welcome.
I’m so glad you found your way here.
Whether you’re here for five minutes or decide to stay awhile…there’s always room for you.
Hope Lives Here was born from seasons of heartbreak, disappointment, loneliness, and uncertainty.
I've learned that healing isn't usually found in one life-changing moment.
Healing often arrives quietly…
In the warmth of morning coffee.
In fresh flowers on the kitchen table.
In the faithful companionship of a beloved dog.
In a walk where the birds remind us that God is still caring for His creation.
In a meal lovingly prepared, even if it's just for one.
In choosing to hope again today.
I hope you’ll discover that beautiful things can grow in your life, too.
With hope,
❤️ Susan
Take your time
Sometimes people ask me why I still believe in hope.
The truth is...
Hope isn't something I found because life became easy.
I found it after disappointment.
After grief.
After prayers that seemed unanswered.
After sitting in the silence longer than I ever wanted to.
Hope stayed.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just quietly whispering,
"Get up one more time."
If you're in a season where all you can see is today, that's okay.
Borrow a little hope from someone who's walked through the darkness and discovered the light was still there.
I'll believe for you until you can believe again.
🤍 Hope lives here.
With hope,
Susan
Take your time
Hope Lives Here was born from seasons
Hope Lives Here was born from seasons
Healing often arrives quietly….
Hope Lives Here wasn't born from a perfect life.
It was born from seasons I never would have chosen.
From the acceptance that twenty-five years became a memory instead of a future.
From learning how to live alone with thousands of racing thoughts that I couldn’t keep up with.
From years when I made decisions I wish I could take back because I was trying to find my footing in a world that no longer felt familiar.
It was born from saying goodbye to my father before I was ready... and carrying the heartbreak of not being able to make it to him.
From walking beside my mother as her health slowly declined until I had to say goodbye to her, too.
It was born during a season when my son made the courageous decision to serve our country.
While I was incredibly proud of him, part of my mother's heart quietly broke.
I thought I had more time.
Instead, I found myself watching my baby walk toward his future while learning how to let go of the life I thought we'd still have together.
Not long after, my daughter began building a beautiful life of her own and she was gone faster than my heart was ready to accept.
And almost overnight...
My life became quiet.
The world was already slowing down because of COVID.
My children had begun lives that no longer centered around home.
My parents were gone.
Many friendships had faded.
Work filled every empty space I allowed it to.
Yet when I came home each evening...
The silence was still waiting for me.
There were days I felt like an orphan.
Days I felt like I had forgotten who I was.
Days when guilt and grief sat beside me at the kitchen table.
And yet...
Looking back now...
I realize something beautiful.
Hope never actually left.
It simply waited for me in quieter places.
It waited in morning coffee.
In fresh flowers.
In walks with my dog.
In birds singing outside my window.
In cooking a meal with love, even if no one else was sitting at the table.
In Scripture.
In prayer.
In ordinary moments that slowly reminded me...
My life wasn't over.
It was simply becoming something different than I had imagined.
That is why Hope Lives Here exists.
Not because I have life all figured out.
Not because the loneliness disappeared overnight.
But because I know what it feels like to believe you've lost the life you loved...
...and then slowly discover that God is still writing a beautiful story.
If you're in one of those seasons today...
I hope you'll borrow a little hope from me until you can find your own again.
With hope,
❤️ Susan
Take your time
🐾 A Little Hope from Lia
She Smiles At Me
People laugh when I tell them this, but I don't care.
Lia smiles at me.
She looks straight into my eyes as if she's searching for something deeper than my face. No one will ever convince me otherwise.
Abandonment has been an uninvited companion for much of my life. I learned very young that someone can be physically present and still leave your heart feeling unseen.
You can abandon someone and still share a bed with them.
Those kinds of wounds don't disappear overnight. They leave quiet scars that most people never notice.
And then God gave me this little dog.
She follows me from room to room, rests her head beside me, and somehow seems to know the difference between a hard day and a good one. She asks for nothing except to be near me.
Sometimes healing doesn't arrive through grand moments.
Sometimes it comes wrapped in soft curls, tiny paws, and eyes that quietly whisper,
"I'm not going anywhere."
Every time Lia looks at me, she reminds me that love can still feel safe.
She keeps me believing.
She keeps me smiling.
She keeps me hoping.
With hope,
Susan
Take your time
Hope doesn’t always knock loudly
Somewhere along the way, I realized I had a choice.
I could continue grieving everything I had lost...
Or I could begin noticing everything I still had.
It wasn't that my pain disappeared.
It didn't.
But when I stopped staring at the empty spaces in my life, my heart slowly became open enough to see the beauty that had been quietly waiting for me all along.
I started noticing what I now call glimmers.
Little reminders that hope was still alive.
A smile from a stranger.
The bright red of a cardinal singing from the tree outside my window.
A gentle breeze across my face on a hot summer afternoon.
Fresh flowers on my kitchen table.
The way Lia looks at me with complete trust and unconditional love.
None of those moments changed my circumstances.
But together, they began changing me.
They reminded me that even on the loneliest days, beauty still exists.
And where beauty still exists...
Hope lives there.
With hope,
Susan
Take your time
This is my Nanny.
She was tiny in stature, but fierce in spirit.
When I was a young girl, we'd sit together and talk. At the time, I thought she was simply sharing stories. Looking back now, I realize she was quietly shaping the woman I would one day become.
She saw things in me that I couldn't see for myself.
Sometimes... things I didn't even want to hear.
Now that I've reached the age she was when those conversations took place, I finally understand.
She wasn't trying to change me.
She was trying to help me recognize my own strength.
She already knew I could carry hard truths.
She already knew I would survive seasons I couldn't yet imagine.
If I had trusted her wisdom a little sooner, I probably would have been spared some painful mistakes.
But perhaps that's part of growing.
Sometimes wisdom is planted long before we're ready for it to bloom.
Today, I can still hear her voice.
Certain phrases...
Little nuggets of truth...
Gentle corrections...
They still find me exactly when I need them most.
What a gift.
This portrait is one of my treasures.
But the greater treasure is that her words never left me.
Love has a remarkable way of outliving the people who first gave it to us.
And sometimes, when life grows quiet enough...
we discover they're still speaking.
🤍 Hope Lives Here
She Saw Me Before I Did
You don’t have to carry this chapter by yourself anymore
I hope that while you're here, you'll discover something important.
You're not the only woman who has walked through a quiet house while trying to outrun the thoughts racing through her mind.
You're not the only woman who has wondered if this chapter is all that's left.
And you're certainly not alone on an island, trying to figure out what life looks like now.
This chapter may not be the one you imagined.
It may not be the one you wanted.
Some days, it may not even feel like the one you deserve.
But I want you to know something that took me years to believe myself...
This chapter still holds beauty.
It still holds joy.
It still holds purpose.
It still holds kindness.
It still holds unexpected friendships.
It still holds laughter.
It still holds peace.
And yes...
It still holds love.
Maybe it just looks different than it once did.
I hope that together we'll learn to notice the glimmers again.
We'll celebrate the small victories.
We'll find beauty in ordinary days.
We'll make our homes places of peace.
We'll cry when we need to.
We'll laugh more than we thought we could.
And little by little...
We'll discover that our stories aren't over after all.
I'm so grateful you're here.
Let's walk this journey together.
With hope,
Susan
Take your time
Behind the Walls
Some people are easy to read.
I never have been.
I'm a deep thinker.
I feel everything...
sometimes more than I know what to do with.
I'm sensitive.
Quiet.
A little shy.
I'm stubborn enough to keep believing when life gives me reasons not to.
I'm generous with my heart...
once I know it's safe.
I'm expressive, yet somehow difficult to understand.
I'm a woman of contradictions.
Strong and fragile.
Guarded and deeply loving.
Independent, yet longing for genuine connection.
My walls weren't built because I don't care.
They were built because I cared so much.
But if you patiently find your way past them...
you'll discover a heart that loves fiercely,
forgives often,
and treasures the people it lets in.
I'm not simple.
I'm not for everyone.
I'm simply...
me.
And after years of trying to become someone easier to understand...
I've finally learned that being myself is enough.
🤍 Hope Lives Here
Can I still have a beautiful life... if the life I wanted never happened?
For years, I believed the answer was no.
I thought beauty belonged to women whose marriages was restored.
Whose families stayed close.
Whose dreams unfolded just as they planned.
Whose homes were always full.
Whose hearts had never been broken.
I thought my story had become something to survive instead of something to treasure.
But God had a different answer.
He never promised me the life I imagined.
He gave me something I never expected.
He taught me to see beauty where I once saw only loss.
He taught me that a quiet morning could heal something inside me.
That a loaf of bread shared with someone I love was sacred.
That flowers on my table weren't just decoration—they were gratitude.
That silence could become peaceful instead of lonely.
That an empty house could become a sanctuary.
That forgiveness could set me free long before circumstances ever changed.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, I stopped waiting for my "real" life to begin.
I discovered that God was already writing a beautiful story with the life I had.
Not because it was perfect.
Not because it was easy.
But because He was present in it.
Today, my life doesn't look anything like the one I imagined twenty or thirty years ago.
Some prayers are still unanswered.
Some chairs at my table are still empty.
Some relationships are still tender.
There are still days when grief catches me by surprise.
But there is also laughter.
There is peace.
There is purpose.
There is beauty.
There is hope.
If you're quietly wondering whether your story can still become something beautiful after everything that's happened...
I want you to know what God has patiently taught me.
A beautiful life isn't the reward for having a perfect story.
A beautiful life is what God creates when we place our imperfect story into His hands.
Maybe that's what redemption really looks like.
Not getting the life we planned...
But discovering the incredible beauty God can grow from the life we actually have.
Hope lives here.
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