Hammering Hope

The sound of a hammer rang out in the morning air.  I was walking out the front door, watering can in hand; but stopped in my tracks savoring a once familiar sound.


On a street

  • where beer cans, snack wrappers, and paper litter the grass beside the street;
  • where houses slowly decay;
  • where lids of overstuffed mailboxes hang open;
  • where men idle away daytime hours sitting and talking;
  • where we celebrate yard maintenance;

it is there I realize the promise that rings out with the pounding of a hammer.


I’m flooded with memories of

steps constructed,

a new house rising from an empty hilltop,

and little boys learning to build furniture.

I think of

dreams, progress, hopes, newness, learning, growth, promise, building, purpose.

For a moment, I pause and savor.  Promise. Hope.  Maybe there is more to come.




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