The Third Day. HOPE.

After flinging my stone into the stream yesterday, I began my climb back up the steep hill. My hand hit something smooth. Flat. Unusual for this area.

I thought I was walking away empty handed.

I was wrong.

A piece of slate. Slate reminds me of writing. Words. I didn’t have chalk, but I did find white paint. And an old paintbrush.

Today I offer you a word.


A word, an idea, a foothold, that can be found on the rough peak of a rock.


The view is astoundingly beautiful.



2 comments on “The Third Day. HOPE.

  1. cindy says:

    Thank you for the good word. I needed to see that bird standing on the solid rock. That bird would be me right now. Hope is what I hold tight to. That bird is looking and waiting, resting.

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