Hope is the thing with Feathers

"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

It's hard sometimes, in all this joy and goodness, not to feel that someone is missing. I cannot even tell you how many times, in the recent month or so especially, I have thought how much I wished my Dad was here to be able to take part in all the good things going on. To hear about my new job, to see the new apartment I will be moving into, to meet his first granddaughter, and many other good things going on in my family. O! How I ache in my heart and soul that he isn't here to be a part of all this.

And yet....

I cannot let myself despair because my Dad is in a better place. Hope always remains. He is in heaven, and I would like to think he can see all this goodness from his even better perspective. It all gives me hope because I know he is okay. He's better than okay. He's with our Heavenly Father in our true country (as C.S. Lewis wrote).

Still....

Sometimes it's still hard. Life is that way.

So we cling to that hope that perches onto our soul and doesn't let go. As Emily Dickinson writes, hope is the tiny bird that makes it through the roughest storms and comes out singing. Yet, hope never asks anything of us. Let hope sing.