August 14
Katrina,
As the sun plays this morning, bouncing behind a cloud then bouncing out as if playing peak-a-boo with the Earth, his rays smiling brightly with joy, I see that life is an opportunity for change and that hope lives within each moment. As long as we have hope, we have everything.
Hope, Sister. Such a tiny little word, with only four letters connected to each other to form the strength of a word. Hope. A tiny word that holds the power to heal a soul, to build a bridge over gulfs of lost emotion, to change the world. Hope may be the closest thing there is to God.
As long as the human race has been on this Earth, and before, we have walked with the intangible source of life: Hope. Hope surrounds us as it is carried on the wings of the breeze, gently gliding across the miles and whispering into the hearts of the living, “I am here for you.” Hope is the raindrop that can gently raise a seed into a rose, the smell of dawn, and the quiet sensation of sunset. Hope is the first cry of a newborn spirit reaching out toward the future with the excitement of exploration on the expedition of life.
Katrina, do you remember the myth of long ago about Pandora’s box? Legend has it that Zeus presented Pandora with an ornate box, locked as it were, on her wedding day but with strict instructions not to open it. Pandora, her curiosity too strong, slowly turned the key, opening the box to see what had been hidden inside. When the lid unclasped, diseases and evils, sorrows, were cast upon the world. Yet, left inside the box, inside the true heart of the vessel, was hope. Left there within Pandora’s reach was the greatest gift of all and the most powerful presence.
And the epic battle between good and evil rages on, even today. Daily, one can find the empty eyes of heartbreak, the injuries of cruelty, and the casualties of hopelessness. During any moment, somewhere in the world, are the ruins of poverty, the fear of violence, the waste of life. The battle cries of the wounded are heard regularly in courts, jails, schools, and hospitals, in wars, and in lonely darkened rooms. The forgotten silently scream a voiceless plea that echoes through the vacant corridors of empty hearts that have turned away.
And the war rages on. Daily, souls become prey to the magnetic negativity of despair, losing their hope for change, losing their quest for life. A cold blanket of darkness begins to cloak the world in a tapestry of apathy, regret, and surrender as human kindness seems to vanish like a ghost crossing over to the other side. Invisible armor becomes the fashion of the human race as walls are built around the heart and self-protection outweighs the protection of humanity.
Yes, Sister, I have learned a lot sitting at this window, observing the world around me though I am not so much a part of it anymore.
Yet, above all of the chaos, hovering with the electricity of tomorrow, are the smiles of angels wielding the Sword of Hope. “I am here for you,” the voices whisper into an ear, and then another, and another. “I am here for you,” the wind sighs as each moment of sadness is met with an equally powerful moment of joy, allowing the world to choose between the shadowed path of life and the path lit brightly by the sun, allowing the world to see that life is created of both negative and positive energy and the free will to focus on either.
Hope is all around us, Sister. Hope is in the cool, gentle breeze as it brushes against the face on a warm summer day. Hope is the laughing eyes of a dog as he rests on a lawn, paws outstretched, waiting to hear the footsteps of a child coming home to play. Hope is a mountain range forged through centuries of collision to create a beauty of strength, and a single seed that can grow into a mighty oak. Hope is in the sunshine and the moonlight, in birth and in death, in youth and in age. Hope exists in every breath. Hope even exists somewhere in the darkness.
Somewhere between the light of one day and the new dawn of the next sits the power of the midnight, that one reoccurring moment of time that is neither past nor present but a combination of both. It is in that moment that is shared by all that Hope and Despair are born and reborn each day. And, in that moment, the world is granted a choice, an opportunity of free will to follow the song of Despair or to listen to the chorus of Hope.
The Earth naturally believes in Hope as it experiences each day, growing and changing and turning with confidence into the future. We can recognize the harmonies of Hope as we listen to the rustling of leaves as the forest creates a blanket at the nearing of winter, as we see a bird in flight taking food to her young, or as we try to count the endless stars in the sky. Hope is everywhere, if we’re willing to accept it.
Can you hear it, Katrina? Perhaps... is it you, whispering on the breeze, “I am here for you. I am here.”
Forever Sisters,
Christina
This work is fictional. Any resemblance to actual situations or persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional.
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