>Some days it’s hard.
Waiting.
Some days, not as hard, and life feels almost but not quite regular.
Those days there is a frisson of “Almost there…just half a bubble off plumb.”
Then, some days it’s harder still.

Last Sunday was Pentecost, as mentioned, I love Pentecost.
Because it brings the Holy Spirit: Grace, Hope.

Hope, spiritual hope, makes my heart skip a beat, or two.
It is a kind of dance.
A flutter of hands, to grasp, hold fast, squeeze tight as if it can be captured and kept.
Extend, let go and toss it back up in the air so it can shimmer down around me.
Filling the room, the air, my prayer, my breath, my heart.

Yesterday we got another photo of our sweet Marta.
And her face simply shines and sparkles.
She is laughing.
Dare I hope, her smile is bigger, her eyes dancing, more now than months ago?
Could it be us {yes, I’m so vain}?
Could it be simply being healthy again?
I don’ t know, but I know that they said she is a reader. Me too!
And somehow this news makes my heart skip a beat, silly I know.
But it’s a connection, when one is so desperately needed.
It’s a floating glitter of hope.
This is why the wait is so hard, for all of us maybe.
Because we can’t see our children, the path before us, the unknown.
That’s why these updates and pictures are so treasured, poured over, every last pixel perused, every letter analyzed.
We yearn to see, we yearn and grasp for hope.

But, today, I ran across this.
And I saw, “Ah.”
And it made my heart float a bit, my hands open…(this is for you too, Jen):