"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
I'm hoping for many people today who will find comfort; the one who is weary, one who is having radiation, one who is missing a loved one, the family of the headmistress here at a private school who was gunned down on Tuesday by a teacher who was fired and then turned the gun on himself. So many others.
And,
my daughter who is again the hospital.
Hope, I see it in the eyes of strangers, family and friends. It's what keeps us united.
