The Hope I Almost Lost
It still breathes.
It may be only a whisper of hope,
yet it still breathes.
My hope was delayed,
and therefore I became
dismayed.
For my heart yearned
for the dreams
that remained.
But in spite of it all,
my hope—
it still breathes.
It breathes with anticipation.
My hope breathes
while it waits.
Small and fragile.
Rooted and reaching.
My hope clings
while it is held.
Held by whom?
I chose not to hold my hope alone.
I sought to place my hope
into another's capable hands.
My hope now rests
in the hands of the One
who can protect
its small seed.
In His hands,
seeds grow.
In His hands,
seeds bloom.
In His hands,
seeds are multiplied.
So, beloved,
do not despise
a hope that has
almost run dry.
If your hope still breathes,
it can bloom.
Run—
and don't wait—
to place it in the Gardener's hands.
For in His divine hands,
fragile hope
becomes grand.
Thanks for visiting Beloved!
Stay Rooted.
Bloom Beautifully!
Check out the companion whispered practice: Fragile Hope to engage in a devotional activity and check out our companion Youtube companion video.
Also, it is my pleasure to introduce to you our latest offering. Rooted: Destined to Rise. Your support is greatly appreciated!
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