Letters to my Mother {Day 10} Hope Collides

 Dear Mom,

Tonight my spirit feels lighter, after Kel left to go back to work the kids and I sat on our huge new bed and worked the Melissa and Doug puzzles you got us.

The cool fall air drifted in through the window and for a moment all was just… perfect.

In that breath I caught a glimpse of something, something that looked an awful lot like hope.  Something drifted through our window, beautiful and translucent, that reminded what me hope feels like.

Not what it looks like, because I think I get the physical steps down pat, but the feeling of hope has been sorely lacking, elusive.  Yet tonight my soul felt marshmallow light, feather free and I felt as though hope collided with us right there on the bed among the peg puzzle pieces.

It took me back to summer evenings when I was a child, laying with the windows open because we didn’t have air conditioning.  I remember even then marveling through the screen at the way the lawn smelled after Dad mowed it.  Or the way the neighborhood sounded as the houses settled in for sleep.

You know what feeling I’m talking about?  When all just feels, right and you soul takes off.  The hope and future that God promises us suddenly feels around the corner rather than 7,462 miles away.

I know this feeling eluded you on earth but I bet you take baths in glorious hope nowadays, wholeness becomes you.

Yet for me, earthbound and striving, the hope on my tongue melted sweetly.  It was more delicious than the peanut butter cupcake I ate after the kids dozed off… or at least equally as delicious.

As I cling to hope and learn to pray I realize that as I hold hope in my folded hands, it melts and becomes the glue that holds me together.  Hope and prayer fill in the cracks and make me stronger.

I don’t feel like I’m bragging, because this is what we all want for our children isn’t it?  Eyes to behold the wonder created just for them, revelatory moments where they realize that the simple is the profound and eternal.

So I think that this, truly makes you smile.

I love you, I miss you,


  • http://twitter.com/Vaderalman Mark Allman (@Vaderalman)

    Beautiful prose here Leanne and awesome pictures painted with words.

  • http://areadylistener.blogspot.com Anne

    This is beautiful prose and I have tears in my eyes. “as I hold hope in my folded hands, it melts and becomes the glue that holds me together. Hope and prayer fill in the cracks and make me stronger.” I love that. I’ve needed hope many times and God even more. Your writing is beautiful, and I know your letters to your mom are working healing in you. Blessings to you, Leanne.