The thing with feathers?

"In the dark we climb this slope/Because the bravest thing of all is always hope."

-Brave Saint Saturn, "Binary"

It's difficult to talk about hope sometimes.  I can wax theological about it, certainly, and have had powerful encounters with this thing we call hope in many phases of my life.  I claim a hope known through my faith as that which sustained me during some of my greatest struggles.  I proudly proclaim 1 Cor. 13:13 as a beautiful testament to the religious experience I claim.  

But it's difficult to talk about hope sometimes.  Now, as I watch some of those most beloved to me struggle with the fragility, and loss, of life, I am positively speechless about hope.  Language of hope feels too uncomfortable, too painful, like forcing myself into shoes that are two sizes too small.  Hope is not confidence.  Hope is not equivalent to happiness.  Hope, I think, must necessarily exist with devastation.  I don't think we talk about that enough.  So my prayer is that my dear friends might know hope that is big enough to carry their grief without dismissing it.  And that God would draw them close so that they do not have to bear the burden of bravery alone.