Sometimes we run out of words. And sometimes we have too many of them. Sometimes there’s so much to ask that we don’t even know where to begin. Which is why, on Wednesdays, we simplify to one word. Read more about the idea here.

Horizon

We drove partway to Iowa Friday night to watch Anna’s swim meet, then got up early Saturday to travel the rest of the way. I’m not a morning person. But I was amazed by the beauty—even though it was early, even though there was snow and the trees are nothing but bare branches and the ground showing through was a dull brown. Because you could see the gently undulating hills, rounded against the horizon. And behind the icy white, draped with purple-gray shadows, the sky glowed, like the hills were being back-lit. The color was clearer, brighter, a pale (but yet somehow vivid) yellow-white-blue. And I thought, that’s what hope looks like. Just past the horizon. Just out of sight, but not out of reach. Light. Potential. Perching on the edge of the precipice while we wait. Knowing if we keep our eyes on the horizon, we will soon see what we’re waiting for.