Future..

As I am busy planning the next school year, I catch myself thinking how uncertain the future may be. We cannot predict the future at all. We can only see the past. And I think it is the tears, anger, sadness that keeps us marching toward a hopeful future. If I could run from all the hurt, I would. And in the beginning, I did. I had to. Self preservation keeps you running away from the burning building. But then I slowed and realized I was hurt, irreparably wounded. I cannot run, but keep a steady pace, further away from the past, scars healed over. There must be hope.

In the early days, there may have been only a thread of hope in the midst of the despair. But it was there. It has always been there. Like the pilot light in your furnace. Just because you can't feel its heat, doesn't mean it's not lit. It's there when we are ready.

I have always been a planner, but because fate was cruel, I have learned that plans are ridiculous. The bigger the plan, the more ridiculous it becomes that you will get the desired outcome.

Who is this person? I am trudging along on the dirt pathway, full of rocks; I am broken, my clothes are tattered from the journey. I am virtually unrecognizable to those who sent me on my way. But I continue marching because I have to. The hope keeps me going. The hope gives me strength to move my legs, one foot in front of the other. The hope keeps me from collapsing.