It takes hands to build a house, but only hearts can build a home.
Friday, December 07, 2012
Chapter 12, Page 7, Book 12
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chilliest land
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.
Friday, December 7th: HOPE
Even through the darkest and coldest of times, in the literal sense, we can still feel the same warmth that the poem above speaks about. One could say that the hope in the poem is similar to the love that God has for each and every one of God’s children, love that never expects anything in return
Instead of seeing this time of year solely as being about giving and receiving material items, we should also focus on the hope to continue on this journey of life.
God is always there hoping that one day we will all love the way He loves us, unconditionally.