Hope

Emily Dickinson said Hope is a thing with feathers. As if she could not remember the word for it. depression held that word from here and gave her a new description. A bird is a thing with feathers. and hope is a that bird that tickles insides. Sometimes there is nothing worse than hope. Most time there is nothing better. I am hopeful today. Not only because Barack Obama and his family will be moving into the White House in January. Not only because I have warm boots on a cold day. But because God loves me and is patient, and wants good things for me and finish the good work he has started.

Alone-ness is different than loneliness. Loneliness is harder to admit. While I have been uncomfortably shifting between being Alone and being Lonely, I have been realizing that I need not let fear, worry, percentages, rule me. Birds are sometimes attracted to shiny things. While hope can be described as a thing with feathers, it is not attracted and swooping down at every shiny ring or glinting piece of string for nest building. Hope is a patient bird. Hope is a bird who sits on tree branches for hours singing singing a nameless tune. On the tree branch, i sit next to Hope, warmed by its feathers and I hope I will soon learn this wordless tune and join in on its song.