Tuesday, May 10, 2016
Lately I've wrestled with wonderings about the impact of my voice. Will it matter? Can I etch a mark upon time that will impact a generation to come? Does my voice even register above the thundering of the crowd? I've grown silent in the struggle to curate my thoughts. Yet, amid so many restless nights I've come to appreciate that Spring brings back the small voice of the sparrow, the robin, and the cooing of the turtledove. Voices that most probably sleep through in those hours before dawn; yet to me, they bring the hope of morning and the promise of a sunrise. Hope can conquer fear, and one small voice singing alone in the dark can erase the horror of the unknown that hides in the shadows. Hope is what makes faith possible. It is the joyful anticipation of good. It is a song in the twilight hours declaring that dawn is on the horizon. Be silent no more, little one. You never know who will be most impacted by your song or find inspiration in your silhouette standing strong in the middle of the storm.
Time: 11:01 AM