Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

Friday Fuel for the Weekend: Hope

By

Hope Rises

heavy under

a misty veil

i see dimly

until

startled by a

cardinal

on a naked branch

and hope rises

on scarlet wings.

~Sandra Heska King (2010)

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops . . . at all. ~Emily Dickinson

Floating flakes swirl large and gentle, sifting into mounds, powdered sugar soft. They fluff under my feet as I, robed and slippered white, scuff out to the feeders.

Mrs. Cardinal, head down, pecks at crumbs under the breakfast table, dressed in drab and blending in with the other diners.

She’s too fearful for a photo.

But looking up, I’m startled by her king, scarlet feathered.

The male cardinal almost always surprises me, leaves me breathless.

Blood against the bare.

Again I’m reminded of the crimson (scarlet) worm, the towla worm, that L.L. Barkat describes in Stone Crossings.

“How then can a man be righteous before God?
How can one born of woman be pure?
If even the moon is not bright
and the stars are not pure in his eyes,
how much less man, who is but a maggot
a son of man, who is only a worm!”
Job 25:4-6 (NIV)

Maggot–rimmah. A sign of decay. Of death.
Worm–towla. A sign of sacrifice. Of life.

The crimson “worm” is really an insect, a grub. About the size of a little berry. When the time is ripe, the wingless female climbs up a tree and attaches herself to it.

There she lays her eggs, births a family.

She bleeds a crimson juice that covers her “children” and leaves a red stain on the wood.

She dies so they can live.

“But I am a worm and not a man,
Scorned by men and despised by the people.”
Psalm 22:6 (NIV)

Worm–towla.

Back in the day, folks harvested the bodies and crushed them to make a scarlet dye. L.L. puts it this way:

“Such colorful artistry was not lost on the ancients. They gathered this scarlet creature and crushed her to produce a crimson dye. And crimson, right up there with blue and purple, was used to dye wildly expensive clothing and tapestries. So it seems that Jesus, crushed in shame, offers to cover my nakedness–not only with the linen of his life, but also with an exotic color reserved for the rich and royal.

Just picturing this wine-crimson grace, I feel my soul tingle, as if it’s growing wings. And the shame of my past, though real, cannot keep me earthbound.”

This reminds me again of the Hebrew word tiqvah, translated “hope” in Ruth 1:12 when Naomi says, “If I had hope . . . “

Tiqvah is first used in Joshua 2:18 and translated “cord.” David’s great-great grandmother, Rahab, the Gentile harlot named in the genealogy of Jesus, tied a cord in her window, and her family was saved when the walls of Jericho fell.

A scarlet cord. Likely stained with the crushed body of a towla worm.

Hope.

A cord to cling to when things seem hopeless.

A cord of hope that connects us to Hope. 

Hope for redemption. 

Hope for restoration. 

Hope for renewal. 

Hope for a new story in the midst of brokeness.

The thread, the cord, the hope, the Hope, that runs throughout the pages of scripture.

I can’t see a male cardinal anymore without seeing hope.

Praying that hope rises in you this weekend no matter what swirls around you.

And look up.

You may see hope in the branches.

Linking to the Faith Barista for this week’s jam on hope.
And with others spilling imperfect crumbs in the Hush of the Moon.

Note: Parts of this post were pulled from the archives of this blog.

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Comments

  1. Carol J. Garvin says

    Scarlet blood, also shed for us on the cross — the hope of mankind, bleeding a life… offering the trade of his for ours.

    Cardinals are extraordinary sights, for sure. I don’t get them here so am pleased to see your gorgeous photos.

    • Sandra says

      They are very common here, but they still take my breath away. So striking. And today when I was feeling a little down, I saw one–barely visible–in the branches. They always take my breath away.

  2. Susan J. Reinhardt says

    I’ve often seen cardinals up north. They give winter a flash of color like a promise spring will soon be here. Your pictures are amazing.

    When I think of hope, I see strong hands, fingers laced together to make a platform for the foot named, “faith.”

  5. Lynn Mosher says

    Sandra, as always, a beautifully written post. You always touch my heart with your precious words. May the Lord bless your writing more and more! 😀

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