Question

small story about hope

Answer 1

While this story is not based on any real person, my mom long ago befriended a woman diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Her struggles have always touched a deep fear in me. Her story always reminding me that not one of us is immune to a debilitating chemical imbalance that can snatch reality from our closed fists.
Through a series of events involving my daughter’s soft heart and artistic abilities, I have begun volunteering with a group in our inner city that has an open art studio for area residents*.
I see Hope in many of these homeless folks, desperate for acceptance, yet never wanting pity. And when they find genuine compassion, they’re at a loss, bending over backward to share whatever little they have. Gifting me and my kids with mints, drawings, stickers, secrets to their own artistic stylings.
I wish I had had more than 5 minutes to explore Hope and the mystery woman. Perhaps I’ll have the chance in real life.
Wishing you a blessed weekend

While this story is not based on any real person, my mom long ago befriended a woman diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Her struggles have always touched a deep fear in me. Her story always reminding me that not one of us is immune to a debilitating chemical imbalance that can snatch reality from our closed fists.
Through a series of events involving my daughter’s soft heart and artistic abilities, I have begun volunteering with a group in our inner city that has an open art studio for area residents*.
I see Hope in many of these homeless folks, desperate for acceptance, yet never wanting pity. And when they find genuine compassion, they’re at a loss, bending over backward to share whatever little they have. Gifting me and my kids with mints, drawings, stickers, secrets to their own artistic stylings.
I wish I had had more than 5 minutes to explore Hope and the mystery woman. Perhaps I’ll have the chance in real life.
Wishing you a blessed weekend

While this story is not based on any real person, my mom long ago befriended a woman diagnosed with Schizophrenia. Her struggles have always touched a deep fear in me. Her story always reminding me that not one of us is immune to a debilitating chemical imbalance that can snatch reality from our closed fists.
Through a series of events involving my daughter’s soft heart and artistic abilities, I have begun volunteering with a group in our inner city that has an open art studio for area residents*.
I see Hope in many of these homeless folks, desperate for acceptance, yet never wanting pity. And when they find genuine compassion, they’re at a loss, bending over backward to share whatever little they have. Gifting me and my kids with mints, drawings, stickers, secrets to their own artistic stylings.
I wish I had had more than 5 minutes to explore Hope and the mystery woman. Perhaps I’ll have the chance in real life.
Wishing you a blessed weekend