Hope

           Four, sometimes five days a week I go to the gym. In the winter it is dark but a few glorious months of the year the sun greets me as I enter. The light gives me hope. Not just hope that I will do my workout but hope that all the missed stitches of life might just in the end be sewed together.

     I approach my mat with stiff muscles. They mirror the stiffness of my mood sometimes. Arms go overhead and they stretch to the right. Ahh, I feel some release. There is hope. The left side opens to the stretch and I extend just a little more. More hope. My legs go up and I watch just how far they want to go. I hope after a few minutes they will go a little farther overhead.
    I am so grateful for hope. That feeling that lifts the heart and stills the soul. I believe in the author of that hope. He is my Savior. He meets me on the yoga mat and whispers to me that I can.

 It Might Be HopeYou do your work the best that you can
you put one foot in front of the other
life comes in waves and makes its demands

you hold on as well as you’re able

You’ve been here for a long long time

Hope has a way of turning its face to you

just when you least expect it

you walk in a room

you look out a window

and something there leaves you breathless

you say to yourself

it’s been a while since I felt this

but it feels like it might be hope.

Mercy River is here with a link to this song. It is worth listening too.

I write on Fridays with a large group who inspire me. Only five minutes and without much thought to perfection. I write, prompted by one word that sends my thoughts to the keyboard and hopefully make sense.