Hope

So, I must be feeling a little poetic lately...

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune--without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gales is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land,

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

Emily Dickinson

We drove home from picking Ike up from class, Alexander threw a tantrum....all the way home.  He is so angry sometimes and it really concerns me.  We were sitting down to eat lunch a few minutes later and Alexander folded his hands together and looked up at me saying, "Pray?".  Hope.