She is little.
Too little to know what she knows of the world.
The neglect of her parents. The failure of a system that is supposed to protect her.
Bruises that have healed from her skin, but remain in her heart.
She folds herself into a chair, pulling her knees close to her. Protection. Defense. Knobby-kneed line in the sand.
Her eyes are blank, refusing to give away any emotion.
I begin to draw on a blank piece of paper. Colorful swirls. Stick people.
She is watching me, but I do not meet her gaze.
I begin humming without even noticing.
She breaks her silence and it shatters like thin ice under a heavy footstep.
“What are you singing?”
I answer her, “a song called ‘This Little Light of Mine,’ I like to think everyone has light to share with the world.”
She is quiet for a moment, and then asks “do you think I have a light in me?”
I pause, and smile before I answer, “your light is so bright, I almost need sunglasses.”
She smiles quietly to herself and picks up a crayon.
We color and she hums along with me.
I am humbled by the moment – the moment where hope enters my office – as a small sliver of warm sunshine that chases away shadows and allows healing to begin.
This post is part of a Hope relay! As we celebrate the Olympics, Melanie Crutchfield had the fabulous idea to pass the torch of “Hope” around the blogging community. The idea being that she has asked some fabulous folks to write about Hope, and then we ask some more fabulous folks to write about Hope and before you know it, Hope is spreading around the blogging community! Melanie is going to compile all of the posts she can at the end of the Olympics and host her own version of the closing ceremonies.
I invite any and all of you to write on the topic of Hope, but I am officially passing the baton of Hope to Kenya of Here’s the Thing, Jennifer of Another Jennifer, Molly Jo of Frankly My Dear… and Gina of Namaste By Day. I hope that you will all choose to write your own stories of hope, because I gather a lot of hope from you all.