Oh you are here. That’s so lovely. Shoulder to shoulder on this 31 Day mini jaunt through some of my favorite words. If you missed day 1 on ordinary and day 2 on savor you can skip over here and here and do a catch up of sorts.
She wants to fill a word container, like she’d fill a vase with fresh cut garden beauties, a loose arrangement.
She wants to fill a word container up with words stuck in the inner places waiting at the end of the que, patient as the English. Not their time, not their turn. The waiting sweetens, the waiting improves with age, like cheese and wine and marriage. A trio of age improved elements. Add her word container to the mix and make it a foursome.
They can play tennis, golf, cards these four.
Her container is named small h hope, her book. The one on Hope is written and is bound in the Holy, with words, sacred, words God-breathed. Red letters and words from the Trinity.
But her book of hope will spill words on the page. They will run like rabbits, down trails of hold on, cease worry, end despair, look for tomorrow, see through the wormholes in today.
She will release them on the white crisp paper and let them flow like riverlets. Jumping the beaver dams of apathy and malcontent and run unobstructed to deliver buckets of hope. Wet the pages with words kicking and screaming there is always hope.
She will draw from His book of hope and lean into Him. Ask for words, humbly and meekly. Give me words to scatter that tell of hope. Its linked by hyphens to trust and to knowing and faith.
She knows He knows of all her days, her hours.Where she and Hope have been together. When she loosed her hands and held less firm. When her threadbare rope looked like a string to her and him and they.
She can only tell her story, shaky, story, brave, story. Stammering, stuttering, hers.
But better bound in leather in its imperfect state than bound in her. He, the editor knows when to publish and release. She has lips and a mouth and a tongue to tell. The paper is just one place the words can buckle up and ride off. Buckle up and face forward. Wheels on the ground. They roll.
When loosed and left to flap unfettered, like drying sheets drape over backyard cord, breathing, flailing, singing sweet in green grass breeze. They point to new.
And new looks mercifully on the past and says stay, sit, heel. I will toss you a biscuit stay right there. Hope is on the way. Hope infuses her brilliant radiant joyous spirit in the from here forward.
But bound in leather, not by chains of pain, or links of past.
The book of little h hope, waiting in the que.
Until her day comes.
Writing in community with these fine folks, Jennifer, Ann, Duane, Amber and Emily
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elizabeth w. marshall 
“Wet the pages with words kicking and screaming there is always hope.” This, Elizabeth, is just wonderful. I LOVE the idea and believe in it with all my heart. May I, too, wet my pages with bronco riding words of hope. Thank you.
AH friend, we believe together.let’s slather it all around like fig jam on toast in the morning, noon and night we will.
So beautiful and encouraging. I love the water imagery, too.
You were here and I am grateful. many thanks for words from you to me.
Beautiful, Elizabeth. I’m not participating in the 31 Day challenge, but I had to pop over when I saw your word was Hope. That’s my middle name and I have an abundance of “hope” things. It’s part of the reason my life verse is Romans 15:13 🙂
Blessings to you!
AHHH, Hope. So appropriate for you I do think. Happy your sweet self was over here. And you leave a kind calling card too.
Love all the wildlife imagery…so makes me smile…life begetting life!
your phrasing is beautiful.
I am so pleased you came here. I had to go back and look and laugh at the beaver, dogs, rabbits, etc. and maybe tomorrow’s word should be strange or wild or odd 🙂 Thanks friend. Hope youll come again during this 31 day journey.
I will.
Your words dance.
You partner well in the dancing of words. Its pure joy doing word dances with your words. Happy Blogiversary. Coming your way to read and celebrate your big day.
“But better bound in leather in its imperfect state than bound in her.” – – oh my, what a beautiful, beautiful line!!
Tara, humbled. Smiling that you were here.
HOPE- Hope infuses her brilliant radiant joyous spirit in the from here forward.- how we need her- and you to bring her to life for us- for those who struggle with the gift of words- you with the gift, sharing with us- releasing the gift towards us- running over the page, hope rising as we read- delightful- and so much appreciated and enjoyed.
Is this a bookstore in your neighborhood? And an author who is a friend perhaps? How fun!
You knit words together in a glorious way, and yes to the hope that is in you, to the dream, yes and amen.
“She can only tell her story, shaky, story, brave, story. Stammering, stuttering, hers.” My dear this is what I love about blogging! If only more people would be content in telling their story instead of trying to imitate others! How much more colorful this place would be! 🙂
She can only tell her story, shaky, story, brave, story. Stammering, stuttering, hers.
this is how i feel. it’s all i can do. shaky. stammering. mine.
small “h” hope. i love this.
this is take my breath away beautiful
….i can smell the hope so strong and sweet
like tangerine peel,
it fills me
and I thank you:)
-Jennifer
(and I’m so sorry to comment via fb but wordpress sends my comments to your spam folder
until you “allow” one and I so wanted to thank you for this nourishing beauty)
Sweet one. First let me say I am traveling and slower to attend to my incoming comments which bless my socks off. Second you humble me. And I am overjoyed with that you see hope and embrace it here. And last, new friend thanks for journeying with me. I hope to see you on my fb writers page too. Warm embraces. I cherish your words.
You get hope well, friend. This was beyond poignant!
(and can we hold hands while I shake and stammer? show hope’s cousin: grace?)
Yes stammering, stuttering, quivering together. Thanks for encouragement, Nikki. Hope is life, without it the shadows cast too wide.
You can practically taste the delight you have in words – this was wonderful. Thank you.
Oh Tanya, your words, a gift. Thank you for hearing my heart so perfectly.