I'm holding to hope,
and hope has a name,
it isn't Mary or Thomas or David or Jane,
Seymore or Thadius or sweet Betty Sue,
Penelope, Woody, Clarissa Magoo.
Hope is the knowing felt deep in your heart,
when the odds are against you and you grope in the dark.
And you can't see the forest for towering trees,
And you fall over obstacles, skinning both knees.
Hope is the offspring of Faith, Noah's dove.
Her Father is Grace.
So that makes her - Love.
~~~
I penned these simple child-like words in 1999 following the apparent suicide of my brother. There are no words in the english language that could possibly describe the excruciating pain my entire family felt during those long days and nights, emotionally and spiritually wrestling with this tragedy. When it seemed like breathing took more effort than simply letting go, once again hope quietly slipped in and took a seat beside me. Breath by breath my soul began to heal. Breath by breath I continue the snail-paced journey to Healing's Springs. That full and final healing will not come in this life. But one day it will come. It will come when my Faith becomes sight and I finally see clearly, with an unveiled face, all that has been hidden until now.
Until then, I journey on in Faith and Love, while holding tightly to Hope.
~~~
And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.
2Corinthians 3:18 (ESV)
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