perfect brightness of hope

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.

i love hope.  i haven't always.  i saw it as the lesser sister of faith.  faith is power.  faith is action.  faith moves mountains.  hope pales in comparison.  or so i thought.

hope is a lot sneakier than i originally gave her credit for.  hope has a dual identity.  it can be a wish, a desire for far off and possibly undeserved, unrealistic somethings.  it can be passive and dispassionate, as unassertive as "when you wish upon a star."  not that i dislike wishing on stars.  i love it.  but i never expect those wishes to fall into my lap.  i expect to work for the things that i want.  saying a wish is not enough.  having a hope is not enough.

but, hope can also be something much more powerful.  it is a principle of strength.  hope is that bright little light that gets you through, keeps you moving.  it is the calm that inspires faith, trust, belief, and confidence in the promise of possibility, and the might to hold on when the other, bigger virtues fail you.  this hope is not completely separate from the other.  it gets its sweetness from its wishfulness, from its ability to believe, even if just a little, in something better.

"Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, but sure and steadfast..." Hebrews 6:19

(thanks for the song, hannie.)