by Sr Nunother  

This time of year, I begin looking for signs of hope. I’m not a great fan of frozen tundra and I want to know spring is just below the surface. On the coldest day of this winter season, I watched (from a warm place) wind-swirled snow dancing in the late afternoon sun. A small flock of snow covered robins appeared — playful, flitting around our privet hedge as if they’d just landed at Disney Land. A few days later, temperatures rose and snow became mud-colored slush. I walked into our cloister, annoyed by the state of my shoes, and was greeted with the robust singing of feathered soloists. 

The ground is covered in snow once again. This time my search led to a primrose leaf, ice encrusted, peeking through the snow with a will to prevail.  In my life — in times of darkness, sorrow, or loss — I always find a pinpoint of hope when I take the time to look for it.