Who says angels smile all the time?
Jelly jars,
colored beach glass
and beeswax candles
on my grandmother's silver tea tray...
I lit a candle with the kids last night.
We talked about hope.
about promises
and longed-for things.
Eight years ago, I was told I couldn't have children.
I was lost at sea,
grasping for a new direction,
for something to hold on to.
That Christmas, my sister-in-law gave me a present,
a simple linen square, sewn with one word:
hope.
I stared over and over and over at that sewn word,
trying to own it.
hope.
It became my tangible reminder
that help is never far,
even when we can't see or feel or think through our hard times.
And that season, eight years ago, is when I started writing, actually sitting at a desk, plotting and birthing stories. Which I'm still doing today.
My four sweet endings, you've seen.
Hope is worth every penny of the wait.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without words
And never stops at all
- Emily Dickinson
We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.
- Oscar Wilde
For you, my artist and writer friends, hopeful by nature,
hopeful for someone, somewhere to pick up your work and be changed,
may your work be rich and deep,
may your hearts be lightened
and your hopes become solid.
Gleam and Glow, by Eve Bunting, illustrated by Peter Sylvada
