Quiet Kind of Hope

It’s the quiet kind of hope that keeps you going

The subtle whispers in the leaves that float across your path.

Sometimes the silent secrets that spill and roll over your cheeks find the rest they need at His feet.

This hope is the kind of persistent joy that murmurs to be heard in what seems to be the deepest and darkest caverns of your mind’s eye.

It’s the bittersweet, but mostly sweet

The grain of salt not tasted 

The curiosity that has the cat purring contentedly in a kind stranger’s lap

The calm that stays… with the storm halted at bay. 

The canary in the damp, dim coal mine that just felt like singing.

Sometimes Murphy’s Law is anything but red-letter. 

In a world that's drowning in waves of sadness and love, you stumble blindly forward through real-life bad dreams no matter how loud the chaos may seem.

Grasp the hand offered out to you.

Hold your breath for the island off the maps, the lighthouse growing closer in your view.

Sometimes all it takes to reignite hope, to rejoice 

is hearing to listen 

For the still small voice