Picture this:
You are locked in a room,
With a single window.
Your only escape lies
Through that one window.
The potential of today,
And the freedom of now,
Seem distant.

Now, picture yourself,
Locked in a room,
Surrounded by many windows,
Each a different size.
One too small to climb through,
But it allows light to
Chase away the darkness,
Like dawn’s fingers parting night’s curtains,
Reminding you that you are not alone.

Each window plays its part.
Each window, a possibility.
Each window,
A blessing born of
Someone’s kindness.
A silent message:
“You matter, you are seen,”
Whispered by the breeze of compassion.

It is not the help
That saves us.
It is the offer to help
That brightens our day,
The quiet assurance
Of whispered, gentle care.

It is not the gift
That brings happiness.
It is the thought of giving
That fills us with joy,
Like a garden blooming in the heart,
The realization that in someone’s heart,
We are valued and appreciated
By a passionate effort,
A galaxy of care in our sky.

The helping hand
And the gift
Are but windows
And possibilities,
Choices and foundations,
Pillows for dreams,
Softening the hard edges of life.
Friends of hope and grace,
Lighting paths to healing,
And opening doors to tomorrow,
Portals to future days bright with promise.

We are all window-makers.