. . . then there are the mornings like today, while still intensely grateful for all my blessings, my heart seemed caught in a vice of agony over situations and circumstances that seem completely hopeless.

Like the heartbreak my cousin is enduring caring for her mother, my aunt, who has Alzheimer’s . . . any of the hundreds of thousands of people who have or are currently putting their own lives on hold to care for loved ones . . . my heart aches for you.

Or the senselessness of littering . . . it has been almost 50 years since the “Keep America Beautiful” campaign of the 1970’s with the commercial of the Native American crying over a polluted earth and there are still people who do not respect our precious planet?  Really? What the frack?!

Or the idiocy of state legislatures that cannot and will not pass sensible and well-deserved legislation to ensure the financial security of teachers for the health and well-being of future generations. Come on people! You greedily line your pockets with money without regard to the long-term consequences of your insensitivity and ignorance. This not only breaks my heart but blows my mind as well.

I could go on, the list appears unending, but I think you get the drift . . .

I long for the day Isaiah describes in chapter 65 verse 17 of the Hebrew Bible:

For, Look! I create new heavens and a new earth; past things will not be remembered, they will no more come to mind.

Until then, what?

I was walking the track at a local high school, head hanging, pondering the musings of my heart when I noticed a dandelion growing out of a crack in the pavement. I love dandelions; it is completely unfair that they are labeled as weeds and that so much money is spent on chemicals to rid yards of this symbol of hope.

Yes, hope–for if you have ever experienced a young child plucking one from the earth and handing it to you with the joy of innocence and wonder on his or her face, you know what I mean.  Or perhaps you remember making a wish while blowing dandelion seeds and watching them being wistfully carried away with the wind.

On this particular dandelion were two minute insects engaged in pollination. I snapped a bunch of pictures because I was awestruck. Here were these infinitesimal creatures going about their business, doing what they were designed to do, living in the moment without worry or fear.

That’s it, then, every day, each moment—as difficult as it may be—choose hope . . . “Return to the stronghold, you prisoners with hope!” (Zechariah 9:12) . . . do what you were called to do, living without worry or fear, and serve others in Charity and Grace.

. . . in other words, be a Dandelion!