A little while ago, I had a party white sitting at my table, streamers were sagging with anxiety permeating around the room. They kept company next to the balloons of tears and frustration. I admit it wasn't a very fun party, disappointment and anger was on the verge of throwing his plate to the ground. I wanted to leave, this isn't what I had expected. I wanted cake and ice cream, heaping bowls of it and while I was wiping my face I wanted to hear laughter squealing and bouncing off the walls.
I thought when my wishes were granted, my expectation of hopes would flourish and there would be an arrary of glitter and confetti raining down on me, but sometimes, expectations can squash your party.
It was only after I looked up from my plate of discouragement and noticed a new arrival, it was the hope I had thought about, of course this was only after heartache had left leaving a trail of sadness that was swept away with each step that he took.
I waved and then invited hope to brush the crumbs from the chair and take a seat.
A little while later the sun began to rise, hope had rained on the other guests, the only thing left were cake puddles and the rising sun of gratitude was the guest seated in the kingly chair at the head of the table and the prescence of what a glorious day it was going to be at this party since pity had left this table and made his way out of town.