When The Giver Needs The Gift

I smile, laugh, and chat lightly because it's my way of sharing hope. If I can smile, there must be something worth smiling about, something worth laughing over, something worth being light-hearted about. In all the standing strong and living hope I brush up against her broken heart, his anger, and my own deep struggle to cling to the truth I know. I start to break over all the pain and look for a corner in which to cry. I wonder if there is hope. I wonder if I'll find love. I doubt, grow discouraged, and wonder how I can be a hope giving girl when I feel so little hope myself.

Because my hope is a greater hope than a sunny tomorrow; it's a bolder hope than a someday romance; it's a braver hope than the perfect job. It's a hope that believes in one divine man dying so we can live without guilt. It's a hope that knows your war with God can end like mine has. Yes, I believe in hope. Some days it's harder to believe than others but don't let the flickering of my flame dim the reality that the flame of hope exists in a bolder and brighter form than I can possibly show the world.

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