That pretty little bird...

“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.
by Emily Dickinson

I share this poem with you today because it has stayed with me over the past few months. I am hopeful, I am filled with faith, I believe in the good that God has done and will continue to do for this world.

There are some things going on in my heart lately. Things I can't exactly talk about right now, but things that are new and beautiful and scary and unknown.
And hope, that pretty little bird, is paramount. It's what keeps me going.