as fear invades, creativity seems to be the first thing to leave
motivation fades and dreams are the very last thing on our minds,
surviving is now the name of the game,
let’s just try to make it to the end of another day…

our plans, goals and desires get so squashed down,
all hope and joy take a hiatus,
leaving us reeling and wondering if this is momentary
or is it here to stay, a new sort of ‘normal’

how does one overcome this?
how do we begin to dig up the bones, these buried visions for our lives
that still pulse with life
deemed unworthy by false perception, thrown prematurely into the pit, left for dead

it might begin as a ‘story’ we tell ourselves each day,
like a child’s fairytale book
our eager ears await to hear
so we may have a hint of hope, that we might actually begin to believe again

we will tell ourselves this story again and again,
a button set to replay in our hearts and souls
until we know the words and lyrics by heart
where we no longer need to read it off of the pages of a book

through infusion the story begins to become a small hope truth, a manifesto.
we recite it, even from full disbelief until the words
offer comfort, support and a softer place to land
gently falling into the welcoming arms of grace

this mustard seed becomes a way of life.
one crumb for the day.
a reminder of the narrow escape from hopelessness,
a glimpse of who we still really, really ARE,
not the things we have done

we are not an accumulation of bad choices or perceived missteps
but rather we are a soul spirit in a human suit
choosing this journey as an ever expanding
sense of self discovery laced with forgiveness

if we can look up
raising our weary eyes toward the light just one more day
then we have already succeeded

may our dreams flow back to us,
like baby seeds watered by mere drops of dew
to the human eye we cannot perceive growth of any sort
but under the soil life is stirring
about to bust forth
so we wait
in faith
in hope
in love

amazing grace.