About Hope,

I'm sitting on my bedroom floor

it's not just my body that's tired,

it's my soul,

my heart

The pieces of me - the fibers,

the ones God knit together.

They're vibrating

reacting to the things unseen

I have known these things - these feelings,

they are not new.

I have been making them things to solve

instead of to feel,

because with feeling them comes the whisper

powerless

and then I feel that too.

But somehow,

as I allow myself to admit these things,

these things I already knew,

I can also admit to myself the things I know.

And from there freedom has room

and hope.

Hope always seems to ripple in.

- like a friend or a master -

I am a prisoner

to hope

Melancholic little word isn't it

Beautiful little thing isn't it - hope.

something is missing,

but never quite lost.

Hope is a sneaky little gift.

a scent in a garden,

present. whimsical. illusive. Intangible, real.

evidence without sight.

Is it not the synonym of optimism?

it's the honest sister

more nuanced, more beautiful, more tangled than that.

Hope is living in full awareness of our own lack,

and believing for something more.

Hope is hard.

it's what compels

us towards God.

It reminds us of our need

It is not easy.

To hope requires courage.

boldness, authenticity, vulnerability, honesty.

It's acknowledging the dark,

and holding to the light.

It's living in tension.

now - not yet

In God

we must hope.