Choose Hope

“In every winter’s heart there is a quivering spring,
and behind the veil of each night
there is a smiling dawn.”

Hope, as defined, must know the depths, to gain the sense that there will be something better. From anguish is born release, and through release, joy. Anguish is heavy, pregnant with release. The vision of, the sense of, that release we all have known, because the blackest of despair cannot remain. It is always overthrown. This too is inevitable. The least of things – a scent, a kind word, a letter of gratitude, unbinds that force within us, and catches us quite by surprise. We’ll call it “Hope.”

These writings are for the most part born of suffering, each one drawn up from a deep well of anguish. Where joy is expressed, it is only found and recognized as a breakthrough from bafflement. That breakthrough emotion, for me, happens when, pen in hand, the voice of the Divine within emerges.

Provider, lover, encourager, friend
a solace in trouble
and a plaything in joy.

Sweet consolation, the spirit Divine never directs, nor does it transform the world. The spirit’s voice transforms our view of the kingdom, like a window onto a garden, with spring in full bloom, accompanied by the trill of bird-song. It reminds us of something deep within, only dimly perceived, half-forgotten, on the fringes of memory – our native home, our heavenly habitation.

Choose Hope. Above all else, write of Hope, and she will catch you unawares, like morning light, cascading inevitably across the eastern windowsill, through no effort of your own.