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“And as my head hit the pillow that night, my prayer for my son remained simply that his last wish would finally be fulfilled…in some future moment through the same type of faith that allows a 600-year-old Quteniqua Yellowwood tree to grow from a single seed. His last wish being the chance of speaking to me about the one topic that his heart couldn’t find any rest while living on earth – that the true gift of that opportunity would truly come to fruition. In the interim, I had to follow in the words of Khalil Gibran when he said that there should be spaces between our togetherness to love one another “…but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your soul.” Space between our togetherness to find a way on its own accord, outside of the scrutiny of my mothering protection. That night, I went to bed with the reassuring, concluding words of Khalil Gibran “Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters with seared scars.” Scars seared with the anointing warmth of love, a reminder of love’s miracle, and the hope that my loving son would find his peace even from beyond the grave since love makes whole the broken and crooked parts of every story, including stories already lived and wishes never fulfilled because they all stem from the same seeds… Inexhaustible Love.”

“Before my head hit the pillow that night, I thought of these concluding words by Desmond Tutu: “Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Hope is that last act of faith when we feel the least like being faithful. Hope is the connection shared between the memory of was and the freedom of giving it space to be – even if that means consciously letting go when we truly just want to hold on…hopeful that things will stay the same. We’ll know that we have reached healing when we look back upon the experience, and we thank the experience through our sincere feelings of gratitude for helping us to become more courageous of heart. That’s usually when we realize that the only limitations of life are moments when we had a small mindset…or in the words of an old Zen saying: “We don’t find the answers. We lose the questions.” Let the questions flow past the banks where the fever tree grows, as we scoop up waters of hope, and hold onto that until it trickles through our fingers and back into the source of all change, the river of hope. The same place that houses our deeper thinking and commitment toward higher living just like the strength of the fever trees, an embodiment of hope. Bright green hope…the fever tree way.”