you find it inside their eyes. while i softly stroked spritely's neck and kissed her warmth, i looked into her eyes too. and they were bright, and she is patiently waiting for me to finish so i would go and make her dinner. a selfish, hungry spritely gave me hope tonight. i looked and her foot was gingerly flat on the floor, not held up away from the pain. and baby jack's eyes give me hope and faith too, he'll try if we will help him. if i lift him to his feet, he will walk a few turns around the barn before he gets too tired. he looks at me with those deep brown eyes and he eats the grain i place before him. and our other littlest jack who is not well today, will rub her face against my sleeve, and all over my quilt when i lift her to my bed. and when i put my face close to hers so i can see her eyes behind her mop of hair, she looks back at me solomnly and then rubs her face some more. all of them weaker than they were last week, all of them frail and vulnerable today as we wait and see. and all of them warm and soft and trusting because we wait when we see faith and hope alive in their eyes even as we dread looking again to see if it is fading away.