The story of finding hope when all seems lost.
The sky burned a fiery red, lighting the road back to the family farm. In my arms, I carried my dog, Chance, who had suffered a broken leg. I had contemplated eating him, but quickly chose otherwise. I would instead return home to gather in prayer and die.
I had but a mile to go when I saw her, standing perfectly still. Her small, lean frame resembled a crane, but they had perished long ago, succumbing to the ravenous drought.
“May I help you?” I asked.
She turned to me and smiled. “My name is Hope.”