Thursday, December 10, 2015

That pretty little bird...

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
by Emily Dickinson

I share this poem with you today because it has stayed with me over the past few months. I am hopeful, I am filled with faith, I believe in the good that God has done and will continue to do for this world.

There are some things going on in my heart lately. Things I can't exactly talk about right now, but things that are new and beautiful and scary and unknown.
And hope, that pretty little bird, is paramount. It's what keeps me going.

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