Outside my window the storm has passed. There was silence. Silence as thick as the blanket of snow that fell during that night. I sat up on my bed and entered the stillness. I had no more questions. I had no answers either. But I was filled with grace. With an inward silence, blessed by my angel after wrestling in the dark. The faith of this family, resonating with the steps in the stairwell, had quieted my fear and taken me by the hand.
Hope is what sits by a window and waits for one more
dawn, despite the fact that there is not one ounce of
proof in tonight's black, black sky that it can possibly
come.