See Grandma, my eyes are really dark blue....not big brown ones like daddy

See Grandma, my eyes are really dark blue....not big brown ones like daddy

Ryan and friend

Ryan and friend
Mommy, Daddy, I'm saying Hi to Grandma?

This one is for you, Grandma!


soccer with determination and no airplane distractions

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Whispering Hope

I recall times from my youth, when my sister, Ruth and I used to sing while accomplishing our chores. It was fashionable then to sing with family members, like the McGuire sisters did on the Lawrence Welk Show. Everything was family, neighbor, and friends.

One of my mother's childhood friends, lived behind our house, where we used to visit. She had no children and enjoyed our company. Ruth and I used to sift through music files for songs we could sing together as a duet. Whispering Hope was one of those songs. We practiced together, the words, although pretty, didn't have the significance that they have now, some fifty-years later.

The song began, "Soft as the voice of an angel," then it continued, "Hope for the sunshine tomorrow, after the shower is gone."

Our lives are continuous cycles of showers, followed by the sun. The good and bad times of life. The lesson learned from the voice of the angel is that there is always hope. Hope, is a word of comfort. Hope is a word of joy, and hope is something to wished for. A positive action that puts you in a better place. It's implication that nothing lasts forever, that everything sorrowful will pass.

It was this time of year when Ray, and a group of us got together to raise money for the Jimmy Fund, at the Italian American Club on North Street, where my sister and I performed that song for a group of contributors.

Ruth went on to sing on the stage in high school, with the song "Where is Love," and shortly thereafter, met Frank. Her songs soon turned to lullaby's for her four children. I sang in choirs and choral groups.

There was always one line that I didn't understand as a child, "Making my heart in it's sorrow rejoice" How can the the sorrowful heart feel joy?

Ruth passed away in her sleep in her forties. Her heart was filled with the love of her family who brought her much joy, and, as we left the graveside, it was with the hope that we will see her again, someday. Hope is something very much wished and longed for.

Hope is a word of comfort, the knowledge given through the voice of an angel. The message of the resurrection of Christ, who gives everlasting life. And, in that my sorrowful heart rejoices.
Christ is the only true hope that any of us will ever have.

This was written for the Carnival. for other entries, on Hope, go here.

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