Doves and interlocking wedding bands symbolizing the sacrament of marriage are depicted in a stained-glass window at Sts. Cyril & Methodius Church in Deer Park, N.Y. OSV NEWS PHOTO/CNS FILE, GREGORY A. SHEMITZ
Pilgrims of Hope: The Virtue of Hope in the Long Wait
What a Tired Child and a Marriage Retreat Taught Me
Editor’s note: In celebration of the Jubilee of Hope, The Western Kentucky Catholic has launched Pilgrims of Hope, a yearlong blog series inspired by Pope Francis’ Bull of Indiction of the Ordinary Jubilee of the Year 2025: “My thoughts turn to all those pilgrims of hope who will travel to Rome in order to experience the Holy Year and to all those others who, though unable to visit the City of the Apostles Peter and Paul, will celebrate it in their local Churches.” Blog reflections will be written by individuals from across the Diocese of Owensboro, sharing their unique perspectives on the virtue of hope in a world that so greatly needs it.
BY KARLA WAGNER
I was at the airport waiting in line for food when a little girl in front of me, maybe four years old, slumped her shoulders, looked up at her mom, and said with total exasperation:
“Everything takes so long, Mom. I can’t wait anymore. I’m broken.”
I couldn’t help but smile and quietly laugh. She was only talking about lunch, but her words stuck with me. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was meant to receive something deeper from her dramatic little outburst. That evening, it hit me: How often have I felt the same way? Tired of waiting, worn down, wondering if the suffering would ever end.
Her words mirrored the ache I once carried in my marriage. We were both worn thin, distant, angry, and spiritually ungrounded. Even when we weren’t fighting, the silence between us was loud. What had once been a connection felt more like survival. Trust had been damaged, and we didn’t know how to repair it. Love seemed lost, and honestly, we didn’t even know what it was anymore. We lived under the same roof, but we were drifting further apart. And beneath it all, I remember wondering if I was broken, or if we both were.
We came to a crossroads: start looking for a lawyer, or go to Retrouvaille. We chose Retrouvaille. We needed a lifeline, and this was a last-ditch effort. We were scared. Scared of what it would stir up, scared it might not help, and scared of what others might think or say if they knew. With all our brokenness, fear, hesitation, and doubt in tow, we left our kids behind and went on the weekend.
We didn’t leave Retrouvaille with all the answers or every problem fixed. But for the first time in years, we felt connected again. We remembered why we fell in love. It stirred something in us that had felt out of reach for a long time: a glimmer of hope. It broke through the silence and walls of defensiveness and let some light in. It gave us a place to begin again, and the grace to believe that God hadn’t given up on us, so we didn’t have to give up either.
It’s been 10 years since that weekend. Healing, like waiting in line for food, requires patience. Ours has come slowly through hard conversations, prayer, counseling, mentorship, and a thousand imperfect choices to keep showing up. There have been setbacks. But each time, we’ve returned to that flicker of hope and found that God is still with us. The healing continues.
Maybe that’s where hope begins, not with perfect answers or fixed circumstances, but with honesty. With the courage to say, “This is where I am, and I can’t carry it alone.” That kind of honesty can feel terrifying. But I’ve learned something over the years: honesty is holy, not because it’s easy, but because it opens the door for grace, and it can give birth to hope.
In this Jubilee Year of Hope, perhaps the invitation is to stop pretending and start telling the truth – to ourselves, to each other, and to God. Not so He’ll love us more, but so we can finally receive the love that’s been there all along.
I think I’ll always remember the words of that small, tired little girl, not because they were dramatic, but because they were honest.
“I’m broken.”
And the God of hope responds:
“I know. But I’m here. And I’m not done with you.”
Karla Wagner belongs to Sts. Peter and Paul Parish in Hopkinsville and is a certified CatholicPsych mentor. Contact her at catholicpsych.com/karla-wagner.
To learn more about the Diocese of Owensboro’s celebration of the Jubilee Year of Hope 2025 visit https://owensborodiocese.org/jubilee-year-pilgrims-of-hope/.
