I heard my dad tell my husband, "She's a romantic," as if that explained my character. Yes, it's still so.
In the midst of the turmoil of trust and tribulation, I still keep my eyes on faith. I still believe in carrying the weary's heavy load to their door or to their grave. I believe in a forgiveness that transcends others' actions. I believe in sheltering downcast shoulders with arms wide open. I believe in wiping tears and sharing joy. I still believe there is a bridge that connects even the furthest gaps of understanding. I believe there is an army that will rescue even in the bleak dark of night without shedding blood. I know counselors who wrest pain without words.
I see beauty in the bruised and bewildered. I believe looking in others' eyes reveals a story that begs to be shared. I know cheering for the underdog might not make them the winner, but grit and grace are still found in warriors who lay beaten on the battlefield. I believe hearts plundered by calamity still beat a lifesong in defense of love and honor. I still believe we can live with passion and find dialogue that values life above personal interests. I believe sacrifice is a necessity in truly listening to others' suffering. I believe passion is required for deep change. I believe there is mystery that blots out fear that rises in troubled hearts. I believe hope still rises from ashes.
I still believe in the power of one. I believe a quiet man's mien doesn't eclipse his depth of heart, thought, or deed. I believe romantics lay bare despair and call us to dare to dream. I still believe.
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