"O Taste and See that the Lord is good!" - Ps. 34:8

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Hope is the Thing With Feathers


Hope     
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 chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
                                      --Emily Dickinson

Anyone that has been around my little blog for awhile knows that I love when spring finally arrives.  The dark and dreariness of winter gives way to the blooming and blossoming of springtime, and I find such delight in watching the world come alive.

One of my favorite parts of spring is the coming of the birds.  I never loved birds like I do now, but I could sit and watch them flit around my yard all day long.  (The puppy actually does this, but I think she's more delighted at the prospect of chasing them!)

This morning I took the puppy outside and was met with the beautiful sound of many birds.  A couple of weeks ago, it was just one lone little black-capped chickadee singing his little "Hee-hoo".   Now it is a little chorus mixing all their calls and songs together.  Somehow I'm not in as much of a hurry to go back inside as I was a few weeks ago!

I think I understand what Emily Dickinson meant when she wrote that "Hope is the thing with feathers".  There is nothing that signals the welcome hope of spring like the return of the birds, and it seems fitting that she would use the metaphor of a bird to speak of hope itself.

For me, though, the birds sing an even sweeter song, because in their little calls and trills, I hear my Jesus say yet again, "Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they?" Matthew 6:26

Are you not of more value than they?

Yes, dear Emily.  For me this morning, hope is the thing with feathers, or rather, hope is the One who made the feathers.

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