Per California's latest COVID-19 restrictions, we are required to pause our production and sales. As difficult as this is, we are staying hopeful we can resume production as soon as restrictions are lifted. Let’s keep in touch on Instagram at @thegivingkeys.

"There May Be Yet Hope"

HOPE. I saw the key in Nashville, strolling 12 South alone. It was a two day visit last July, but I'd wanted to live there for the summer to pursue a dream. A few weeks before I got the key, I'd driven out past city limits to rural S. Carolina. I parked on the roadside and sat on the hood of my car. I was scared. Scared that my dreams of becoming a writer had been dreamt in vain, scared that moving to Nashville was a no-go. And so it was. But I saw that key with 'HOPE' etched into the front and all I could do was grab it. 

Flash forward to the end of September. A friend of mine shared some bold words. I don't know her well; I've only spent time with her two, maybe three times. But no matter- she's my friend, my sister in Christ. She'd been in a struggle for nearly half her life, a struggle that caused her to uproot all she was doing, and she shared it for the world to see. I know it broke down walls. It broke down mine. 

Lying in bed that night, her words were all I could think about. I remembered the key. Hope. Just days before, I'd taken the picture attached. On my way home I saw the color-splotched sky and pulled over and lowered the ISO to photograph it. "There may be yet hope," I thought. So it was time; time to give away.

I was scared at first. What if this isn't relevant? What if she thinks it odd coming from me? Without a shadow of a doubt, I just knew she needed living, tangible hope. So I sent it anyway. A long letter and a key in a drawstring bag. 

There may be yet HOPE.

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