Size Charts
Women's Top
| Size | Chest | Inseam | |
|---|---|---|---|
| XS | 0 | 29-32 | 23-34 |
| S | 2-4 | 32-34 | 25-26 |
| M | 6-8 | 34-36 | 27-28 |
| L | 10-12 | 36-38 | 29-30 |
| XS/S | 0-4 | 29-34 | 23-26 |
| M/L | 6-12 | 34-38 | 27-30 |
Men's Top
| Size | Chest | Waist |
|---|---|---|
| S | 34-36 | 30-32 |
| M | 38-40 | 32-33 |
| L | 42-44 | 33-34 |
| XL | 46-48 | 36-38 |
December 15, 2015
"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.
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.