Sunday, May 4, 2008

Dear God,

How does one keep hope alive? We don't. Hope is living. It never dies. We may lose sight of hope. We may even give up on hope. But hope does not give up on us.

Hope comes from your hand. It is a divine gift, freely given from the beginning of time. Hope brought the cosmos to its destiny. Hope was born before the world. Hope is ingrained in the DNA of all things. If not, why would we bother to get up in the morning?

Hope does not just awaken me to the new day. It tells me there is a song to be discovered, a dance waiting to be danced, an image to be painted, a spirit to be released, a life to be lived. Hope is my best friend. I cling to hope when everything else seems impossible, because hope is always possible. Hope is alive.

Sometimes it is difficult trying to awaken hope in minds that are closed to it. It is hard to prick the skin of possibility in others. Yet, when one catches a vision of hope, hope in their own life, I breathe a spirit sigh of joy, a sweet contentment of peacefulness, knowing at that historic moment, love has done what it came to do.

I figure love is beneath hope, love that emanates from you. If hope is part of each DNA then so is love. Love is that magical, mystical union of spirits, a deeper commitment to life than any other. Love makes many things happen; hope is just one of them.

In my ministry I offer both love and hope. It's not something I muster up. It already exists. I offer nothing new to the universe or to people. It's the great gifts from heaven. I have the awesome opportunity of carrying it to those who have lost their way, who don't know it exists or to those who've thrown away the possibilities of life and need a transformation. I am simply a carrier, an awakener, no, not even that. I can't awaken anyone. I don't have that power. What I do have is my own internal joy knowing that you are manifest in the natural life and in human life. Perhaps my task is simply to tell the story. And what a story it is.

Today as I cherish this hope and love, I am taken again back to you, the author of all good things. Again I sit at your feet, listening, smiling, breathing in, sighing the sigh of joy.

The quiet peace
at your feet
is a sign
of faith, joy, and love.
Where else
would I want
to be?
Who else
would I
want more
to be with?
In this moment
I am
supremely content
to be giving thanks.

Loving you, Andrea