Posts Tagged ‘Hope’
The Yes sends its blessings in shafts of light that fall, ever so silently, on the heart’s soft ground.
Walk softly, my child, and feel your heart respond. Feel it rising in hope and renewal. Feel it leaping with joy.
Even when you walk through thick forests of doubt, the light will find you. It knows your name; it gave birth to your soul.
Walk in peace, my child. You are known, and seen, and loved.
It’s more than just the darkness of the sky, the low, threatening clouds. You can smell it above the day’s heat. You can feel it on your skin. The birds have stopped singing. Except for the occasional flicker of a firefly, nothing moves.
The horizon is streaked with color. But half an hour ago, you were looking at clear sky. Now, you can hardly see the road beneath your feet. This storm is moving in fast. Those colors on the horizon are the last you’ll see today. You hold onto them like ribbons of hope, sent from the sun before it disappears.
To the south, a streak of lightning splits the air, waking the trees, setting them dancing in a suddenness of wind. And moving across the field, you hear the pelting rain as it moves across the field and you step inside your door, safe, and chilled with wonder.
At the edge of the woods, the joy flowers bloom. Keep walking.
At the far edge of night, the light dawns. Hold on to your hope.
You never what waits around the bend. Expect miracles, expect solutions. Go, as a friend of mine says, for the tiny, magnificent triumphs that come when you keep on keeping on.
Six months ago, we were watching the year fade away. It skated through a quickly darkened sky past bare trees and frozen, snow covered ground. Four months ago, we wondered if winter would ever end.
Ninety days ago, we caught the first edges of the Promise. A final snowstorm swept through, but the ice on the creeks had thawed. We held on to the hope of their song.
Now, look. The world is lush and bathed in emerald light. You can hardly walk through the forest, so dense is the undergrowth there. You wonder how settlers ever crossed through Penn’s sylvan woods.
Fox play here, and coyotes and rabbits. Squirrels chatter from the trees, and birdsong is everywhere.
The next time you find yourself walking over a patch of barren land, trust in Time. Remember what ninety days can do.
I didn’t recognize his insignia, the bright gold lines across his wings. But I knew at once that he was heaven sent, a messenger bearing a reminder that all is well.
Despite the turmoil in the world, the Yes supports the fragile things: The delicate breathings of hope, the spirit’s longing for freedom, the heart’s relentless trust in goodness and in truth.
Your highest dreams are safe and sing themselves in the heart of the Yes, where they can never die.
Believe in morning. Angels are everywhere.
Even when all reason leaves the world, spring comes. Even when men are captured by the madness of war, blossoms open.
The earth has witnessed our rise and fall before. She knows of our terrible confusion. Even so, the songbirds mate, the fishes spawn. This is earth’s way of infusing us with hope, of encouraging us to keep on keeping on.
To remind us that we are deeply loved, despite ourselves, she sends forth waves of sweet grasses and flowers. Heavenly fragrances waft in the wind, and delicate petals sing of grace.
In her heart, earth continues to believe that one day we will get it right. And in the meantime, she will ever send us spring and rainbows.
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.”
Why, just mere months ago, I was only one woman’s dream. And once upon a time, that’s all you were, too. And look at us now!
A whole lifetime of adventures lies behind us, and every twist and turn led us to right where we are today. All those rains, all that wind, all that darkness is a part of us and made us strong. You just keep on keeping on, growing one little bit at a time. And one day you wake up and see the glory of it all, and you feel like you swallowed the sun.
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?