Dawning

Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a tune without words
And never stops at all. ~Emily Dickinson

I've spent a lot of time dwelling on hope this morning.

I think it's a combination of some of the most recent occurrences in my life that have drawn me up toward this elusive sunrise...

...this phoenix rising from the ashes, arching for its comet-like dash across the night skies...

...this White Stag calling me from the thickest and darkest parts of a seemingly endless wood.

Come chase me. 

Try and catch me. 

Watch me.

I want to have more hope than I already do. I have a tendency to turn my back to the sun to stare at the shadows...those foolish, changing images that I am now taking as truth.  

One moment, my future is tall and stretching past the treetops. The next, I am gazing at my own frail feet and thinking, "where did my beauty go? I must have none."

This strange wing'ed thing...this mystery that is hope...it is not an ever-changing shadow.

It is the sun itself, always there even when hidden by a cloud of doubt or a storm of grief. 

It is the moon streaming into my bedroom, dancing over the soft piecework quilt, only to give me a kiss on my freckled and tear-streaked nose and whisper

courage, dearheart.

Hope is dawning. Hope is rising. Hope is there behind the clouds and in the darkest of nights. 

Hope is a Lion. Hope is a King. Hope is a Savior. 

Jesus. 

"Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail.They are new every morning; great is Thy faithfulness.I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.'"~Lamentations 3:22