Hope

Today it was sunny when I got to the church.  Yesterday had been cloudy and so the pictures I had taken of the flowers outside the window there by the front office had turned out blurry.

So I was excited today to take better pictures and the lighting was just perfect, the veins through the flowers looked like brushstrokes and the sunlight created a translucent, ethereal quality to the petals.

I was dizzy and had a headache, but wanted to explore more of the grounds, to make sure I hadn't missed anything, that I was letting God truly lead me.  I wandered to the back of the church, found several singing birds fluttering at the top of the trees, but the ground felt unsteady and I knew I was running out of time.

Twice, once when I headed out around Pastor Debbie's office, past the bench and the trees, and then again on the way back to the car, passing the same trees and bench, I swore I heard the sound of jingling keys.  I grabbed the keys in my own pocket.  No, it wasn't them.  I looked around for someone following me.  There were no other cars in the parking lot, but had I missed a dog walker?

And then I saw it, these chimes hanging from the tree.  I walked over to them.  They were twisted and tangled, but I managed to turn the plaque around to rest against the leaves.

Hope, it read.

Emily Dickinson famously wrote about hope, how it never stops singing, how it lives within us all.

And I would add to that this:  much like the chimes I found today, Hope sometimes gets caught up and twisted--it gets lost among the leaves--its music dampened, but it calls nevertheless.

I thought I was being followed.

And I was.

Hope is with us always.