Posts Tagged ‘Hope’
I am spring, life’s token of hopes fulfilled, the season of births and beginnings, come to sing to you of eternal renewal.
I rise from the darkness, from winter’s barren sleep, to color your world with comfort and joy, and to tell you that life has no conclusion, but spirals on forever.
I bring you this flow of kaleidoscopic beauty as a hint of the wonder of it all, of the endlessly dancing miracles that will bless all your days.
Be at peace, dear children. You are forever in the arms of love.
The trillium flutter down the hill like a flock of white birds, their wings spread wide as they settle on the woodland floor.
Pure tokens of joy, they chant the three-fold song that has rolled on through the ages: Hold firm to your faith. Trust in your hopes. Let your hearts flow with compassion.
Who can doubt them, as they sing their ancient chorus? Why else would they have come, their white wings unfurled, their centers filled with such perfect gold?
On this promise of a day, the winds play elsewhere and the bright sun plants warm kisses on the bare bark of the trees. Downstream from the spillway, geese do a slow paddle through the green stream, hope flowing behind them in watery trails.
The grass lounges in this respite from winter, poking small blades of joy into the temperate air. In the creek, the fishes come from beneath the rocks to mouth the dancing bubbles.
It will not last. From the west, the last blast of winter is rushing toward this placid scene. But today the sun is warm with promise and the world is whispering the yes of spring.
On the morning that Jack Frost sparkled the woods, Little Pine set out to visit his cousins at the far end of the forest.
As he neared their neighborhood, he heard a deafening, buzzing sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. It frightened him, but his curiosity drove him onward.
Just as he got to the edge of the neighborhood, he heard humans loudly yelling. He stood absolutely still, remembering the first rule was never to let a human see you move.
Then, to his amazement, one of his cousins fell to the ground, making a mighty crash. Looking around, he could see that others had fallen before him, large and small, young and old. The humans were fastening giant chains to the trees and hoisting them on a big truck. They laughed as they worked and steam came in great clouds from their mouths and noses.
As soon as the humans left, Little Pine ran back home to tell his mother what he had seen. He was confused and dismayed.
Mother Pine told him that this happened every year. She told him that Grandfather said that he learned from the birds that the humans took the fallen pines into their homes. They hung tiny, brilliant lights and decorations from their branches and laid gifts at their feet. It was the way, he said, that some humans celebrated the return of the Light.
That night, when Little Pine fell asleep, a snow owl came to him in his dreams.
“It is a great blessing, dear child,” the owl told him, “to be an evergreen tree. With your bright needles, you sing to the world that life can endure the days of cold and of darkness. You are a messenger of comfort, and hope, and promise.
“Those cousins of yours who gave their lives to be part of the humans’ celebrations receive special honors as their spirits return home. They expressed love beautifully through their earthly forms, and they offered them with thanksgiving.
“And while none of us knows in advance how long our earthly stays will be, or how our adventures will end, what a privilege it is to be one of those who gets to visit here. Let your heart be glad, Little Pine, and your days filled with joy. For we are all children of the Great Yes, and we are all dearly loved.”
In the darkness, even the smallest flame carries hope. Memories of times now passed rise with warmth, with images of loving friends, light dancing everywhere.
It is enough to sustain us. All things pass, we remember. This darkness will give way to light; this silence will give way to song.
Within the flame, comfort glows, and the promise of renewal. And we, who gaze upon its beauty, give thanks.
Let there be gentleness in your day, for there is suffering in the world. Trail words of kindness as you go, to soothe the wounded hearts hiding everywhere around you.
The Great Yes scatters the steeps with tender flowers and sets sparkling stars in the darkness of night. Follow their examples. Give comfort and hope; shine with light.
The din of the world can be harsh and loud, and many cower in fear. But the Great Yes whispers in stars and small flowers, “Be at peace; you are loved.” Hear its whisper; sing its song.
It’s finer than anything we could have dreamed. Why, nothing’s impossible here!
It’s lush and wide and brimming with life, and hope takes root and grows. And all that is hurt finds comfort, and the broken is finally whole. Peace fills the land. Love beams from the sun. Joy twinkles each night from the sky.
Let us shine, my friends. Let us sing and be glad. Let us dance. Let us dance. Let us dance.
The snow had hardly melted when the dandelions appeared, breathing in the sun’s dreams, storing the gold of them in their soft petals.
Deep within themselves, the dandelions distilled the sun dreams, refining them until they yielded the essence of life itself, with all its potential and hope and power.
Then, when night fell, the dandelions breathed in the dreams of the moon and of the stars and distilled those, too. And they mixed their essence with the essence of the sun dreams and began to spin the blend, whirling it with great engines of joy, until perfect, translucent threads formed.
Finally, with the secret magic that only dandelions know, they fashioned the threads into wish kites for the children of the earth.
And that is why, when you send the kites sailing, blown on your breath and filled with heart hope of your own, it is quite certain that your wishes will come true.
Oh, you flighty, capricious one, you Mistress of Moods, what a show you put on! First you were warm as winter wool, flashing your flirtatious smile. Then your face would be covered with tears and as cold as a polar bear’s nose.
You whirled through our days like a jester, tossing your flowers and frost. We never knew, from blink to blink, what you’d pull from your harlequin bags.
But you made us laugh. You gave us hope. And you broke winter’s long, dark spell.
Now you leave us, bowing behind a curtain of green, trailing songbirds and tulips.
And we rise and applaud you. Good show, Mistress March. Good show.
Hope takes any opening it can. It’s undaunting in its quest to reach your heart. Realize that. And when it comes to you, welcome it in gladness and give it space to grow.
Hear its wisdom and its promise: Time has a way of doing things in the right order. There is always a way.