High on Happiness

Posts Tagged ‘Hope’

You wrote yourself indelibly on our lives, oh quickly fading year.  You tried us, and tested us, and made us stronger.  Against the backdrop of your seasons, we loved and laughed, said our hellos and goodbyes, poured new learning into our hearts and minds, gathered fresh bundles of wisdom and grew our souls.

And although there were times of darkness and heartache, although we mourned and were afraid, in the end, we found ourselves braver and truer somehow, more determined, surer of ourselves and of our meaning.  Even in the darkness, you wrote poems on our hearts and filled them new understanding and compassion.

You brought us gifts of beauty and unfolded pathways of hope.  Your hours opened to us new wonders and discoveries that thrilled our minds and let us see the depths of our potential.   You brought us moments of triumph that let our spirits soar.

Now, as you take our yesterdays to the temple of times past, take with you, too, this deep red rose as a token of our heartfelt thanks for all the gifts you gave, for all the love you taught us, for all the joy.

Farewell, 2011.  Farewell.

Shadows fall across paths of everyone—you, me, the lady down the street.   All of us have our hours of darkness, of pain, of loneliness and doubt.

We’re weak then, when the color is cut from our worlds.  We find no solace even in our fondest memories.  And hope only leaves a bitter taste in our mouths.

I understand; I have walked my share of miles through the places where light is gone.  And I can tell you this about shadows: Behind them is the light. And whatever stands between it and you cannot keep it from you forever.

Say to yourself, “This is only a shadow,” and hold a comforting pillow of peace in your arms.  Shadows pass.  And even in the darkness, you are known and infinitely loved.

.

A few feet away, the first ice is forming on the edges of the creek.   The last thing you would expect to see is a dandelion.  Yet there it was, smiling for all it’s worth.

And how it touched me, this one, sweet, cheery beam in the midst of autumn’s subdued colors, singing its joy regardless.

Here was spring’s last laugh, a bright coin of hope to tide me through winter’s coming days.

And although the snows will come and the frost etch the window panes, her laughter will remain in my heart.   And I will hear her gaily singing, “Remember me!  Remember me!”

Even here, on this plane where confusion runs rampant, or despite it, the Great Yes unfolds itself in perfection.   Sometimes it is easier to see.  Sometimes it appears before our eyes as portraits of paradise.

But always, beneath our stories and partial perceptions, it is here.

It’s the song of silence that rests between sounds and the vast, ineffable ground from which all matter rises.  It rides on our laughter and folds itself within our tears.  It emerges as stars and hope.  It shines in the face of each trusting child.

It pours like an endless waterfall into our parched hearts whispering its eternal song:  Be at peace, my children; you are loved.

Because you kept going when going was rough, even though your chances seemed small,

Because you held onto hope when nothing but hope remained,

Because you gave your best, even when you doubted its worth,

Because you kept trying, even when no one believed in you,

Because you shared your laughter out of love, and your songs for the simple joy of singing,

Because you felt the Great Yes beating in your heart, even in the darkness,

Because the world needed you, more than you’ll ever know,

Because your beauty and valor made the world a better place,

Now yours is the triumph, and yours is the crown.

Be glad, and lift up your arms in joy.

In the comfort of friends, life takes on meaning.   Joys shared are joys brightened.  Shared troubles lose some of their sting.

Friends give lie to the illusion that we are separate, that we walk through life alone. They assure us that we matter and that our hearts are tied to other hearts that know that how we love and know what we bear.

In their company, we unfold our wings and dare to fly.  When we fall, they are there, telling us to rise again.

They encourage us to hope, and when our own hopes fade, freely lend us some of their own.  They support our dreams—even the outlandish ones.  They still our fears with their presence at our sides.

Friends are the mirrors of our souls.  Through their eyes, we glimpse our own beauty and understand that it is true.   And so we love them, reflecting their beauty to them in return.

And thus we prosper and flourish, comforted and gladdened.  We become more real and our lives become more precious, all through the grace of good friends.

.

.

Few places are totally barren or wholly devoid of hope.  Life pushes itself through the smallest cracks, takes root in the most unlikely places.

Eventually, the longest winter gives way to spring.  The darkness gives way to light.

Be at peace.

You, who are not made of rock, are filled with more possibilities than you know and have eternity in which to fulfill them.

Keep faith alive in your heart; hold fast to your aspirations.  Regardless of appearances or circumstances, life will make a way.

Love pushes itself through the narrowest openings.  In the rockiest places, it spreads its boundless grace.

All that could go right, all that could be beautiful,
All that could bring laughter, all that could bring joy,
All that could nourish, all that could further,
All that could support, all that could uplift,
All that could inspire, all that could enlighten,
All that could inform, all that could bring comfort,
All that could give pleasure, all that could give hope:
Let these be the things that fill your heart and mind.

As the sun pulls back the curtains on the pastel morning, the light hangs moist and shimmering in the air.  From the creek, the sweet high chorus of the first peepers rises and the willows open their little catkins to the light.

Spring’s entrance is delicate, as tender as hope.  A little softness begins to edge the treetops on the hills as buds swell.  You feel it more than you see it.  And the same for the wee songs of the returning songbirds.  Some miracles are too precious to be brazen.  You have to be paying attention to notice them at all.

Snow is in the midweek forecast.  The overture for springtime is one of counterpoint, a dance of snowflakes and flower buds, one singing goodbye, one singing hello.

Here, in this gentle morning, my breath forms frosty clouds.  But the sun is warm on my face.  And in the tree a redwing blackbird sings.

Awwww, look at that!  They blossomed!  And aren’t they sweet?  Hardly the size of my thumb nail, blooming their little hearts out.

Oh, we needed you, tiny crocuses, for our hearts have been heavy and filled with tears.

A week ago, this spot was heaped with seven inches of new-fallen snow.  You could easily have believed all hope was gone.

Hope has been hanging by a fine thread this week, little flowers.  And yet, here you are, shining your cheers out to all the world.

Little golden flowers are always blooming somewhere, pushing through the darkness.   Thank you for your reminder, little crocuses.  Thank you for your illimitable song.