It was a grey, misty morning when the plane took off from Portland’s International airport.
The drive to the airport had been bleak too. Who likes goodbyes? The weather matched my mood.
We gave our last hugs and boarded the plane, Michigan bound. Rain poured down the little windowpane.
But less than five minutes later, this was our view….
Mount Hood’s spectacular snow-capped peak was waiting to surprise us, in skies bluer than the ocean, and brighter than I could believe. We had climbed above the clouds, and left the rain behind.
No matter what, there’s always hope.
And when hope seems to hide… beyond the clouds, or deep in the darkness of the earth, or curled in the shriveled chrysalis… we just have to remember that it’s waiting, unseen, to surprise us.
Because every daffodil that was once squashed deep in the dirt, and every butterfly that was once caught in the chrysalis, and every mountain peak that was once shrouded in mist, they all sing the same glorious song….
it’s the song of hope.
Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark. George Iles.