And now we wait

And now we wait.

We wait for the sunset that comes too soon to reach out those rays longer into our days.

We wait for the browns, tans, grays
and the snapping twigs and strands of stems
to finish their need for rest and bring forth their visible signs of life.

We wait for blossoms and buds, green blades and shorter shadows.

We wait for the final days of gestation of the holy seed to come to its glorious end on into beginning.

We wait.

But, in the midst of our waiting, on our horizons, we glimpse reflections of Decembers past. 
That flutter, that sensation, familiar, but needing to be grasped out of the depths, almost forgotten.

She has a name.

It’s intertwined with an ancient story about a baby boy.
A baby boy, that did his own waiting,
until the time was right for him to show his face, speak his truth,
offer unvarnished,
and straightforward,
love and compassion.

She held his hand,
Just as She holds ours now.

Do you remember?
Is it coming back to you?
Her Strength.
Her promise.
Her name?

Hope.

Ahhh, I can feel you breathing.
I can feel you believing.
I can feel you holding on tight.

She’s here.

Thank God.

                                                                                    From Susan WBK Ceely Philips