I've been thinking about hope lately. Emily Dickinson wrote beautifully of 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.
A little while back John and I decided that we want to move to Maine. It would be back for me, as I grew up in Maine, and it would be a first time for him. He's very willing. We've set our sights on the coast. In the past week I've sent applications to three public schools. And we're in the middle of waiting.
We know that changes are coming regardless of the outcome of these applications. Things are tight financially for us. There are going to be some major changes at John's work in the coming months, and it's hard telling what is going to happen with enrollment at my school.
Our hope is to move to Maine and be nearer my family, to enjoy the beauty of the coast, and to step into the slower pace of life. I'm trying to be patient and wait, but it is hard. At the same time, I am scared of the change; packing finding a place to live, moving, meeting new people, learning a new school.
Hebrews 11:1 says "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."
I guess I'm trying to work it all out- being sure of what I hope for, fighting off the doubts, trusting God to provide. Preparing to say good-bye, or not.
It's spring vacation right now. I have all these grand plans to get caught up on correcting and lesson plans. So far that hasn't gotten done. The pull of searching for housing is too strong, yet I don't even know if I'll be considered for one of these jobs!
Spring, hope, faith. The promise of new life.