Do you believe?
I will break it to you gently and in hushed tones so the children don’t hear this, unicorns aren’t real. I know, I know this is almost like finding out that your parents were really the ones that put the presents under the Christmas tree. This announcement is up there with other grown-up awakenings. But it isn’t meant to crush your spirit or suspend your belief in something you’ve never seen or haven’t touched.
Hope is like that. We hope for things we can’t see or touch. We believe that better days will come and that some sort of sparkly fairy dust will be sprinkled over the work of our hands. We dream about attaining what seems to be unreal and sometimes we do.
Faith is, after all, being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see yet.
I love me a pocketful of rainbows and unicorns. Only one of these is real though. I can’t touch that colorful brushstroke in the sky—way up in the clouds. But I can see it and hold it in my heart as it reminds me to hope. It stirs me to believe that the things I think are out of reach, that I want so badly I can taste them, might not be as way up in the heavens and out-of-reach as they appear. Light refracted on water droplets . . . and as we know the human body, in point of fact, is made up of about 60% of water. Hmmm.
Rainbows and hope produce dreams that can and sometimes do come true.