Dear Squeaks,
As I write this you are fussing in your bassinet, your body pushing to grow another inch and your stomach churning like a Daytona 500 engine. Mom is out shopping after a breakfast of pancakes and bacon (her favorite... er, one of her favorites.)
I've just spent a little time with copy I need to write for work but am hoping to get back to this book on Emily Dickinson. The reason I mention that is that it's got me thinking (as you'd expect on a Sunday) Sunday thoughts about Faith. The book talks about her time at Mount Holyoke, a woman's seminary where she found herself unable to publicly proclaim her faith. The school split attendees into three groups: "No Hopers", "Hopers" and "Christians".
"It is hard," she wrote as a young woman of 17, "to give up the world." For her, she saw the work of God in everything around her and could not imagine following that Calvinistic path of rejection of the world.
And so here you are, little Earthling, fussing about, trying to slip this body on like an ill-fitting, ever changing shoe. I pray for the day you find the shoe fits just right and you take off for a run through a field and see that as Ms. Emily herself has written: "Hope is the thing with feathers"
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