Thriving...in Spite of It

What does hope have to do with courage?  I got the answer from a bumblebee.  Just a few feet away from me, an imminent threat to some, he hovers around the lavender this morning, tediously but persistently checking each tiny blossom for pollen. I move to pick up my coffee mug; he dodges ever so slightly, then returns to his task, inching closer and closer to where I sit as he works his way down the row.  It’s not that he’s careless of or oblivious to danger; he is just more determined than his instinctive and fully justifiable fears to secure what he needs in spite of them. Many of the blooms have dried or fallen, but he persists in checking each one anyway, driven by a minuscule possibility that there still might be something left. He hopes. He is driven by hope. His hope gives him courage to persist. And as he persists, courageously, he is rewarded by finding the occasional prize. Because of his courage, he finds more reason to hope.  So hope and courage flow in an...

Standing on a shore and watching the waves rhythmically rolling in, I would say my fascination is as perpetual and continuous as the never ending ripple or crash they deliver to the shoreline. Whether it’s Galveston or Myrtle Beach, San Diego or even Lake Hamilton, I’m completely mesmerized.  I watch and I wonder. I wonder about the God who carved out the shores made me and knows me. And just as He told the waters “go here, and no further,” He has set boundaries and protection around me, carving out a path for my very own unique purpose.  I wonder about the God who sets all these waves and tides in perpetual but perfect motion with the laws of nature, rising and ebbing in perfect timing with the moon’s mysterious pull—how can He have the time or concern to orchestrate the things in my life, as well? After all, it’s “just me.” But it’s “just me” that He has in his hand. His right hand — the hand of authority, as when a king raises his scepter in his right hand and mighty men bo...

Every day, in some way or another, we seem to come up short. Our output exceeds our income, and we are "in the red" when it comes to so many things, such as time, energy, money...even enthusiasm. Being tapped out seems to have become the norm, as we chase every opportunity, pursue countless friendships, enlist ourselves in every new cause, and rack up accomplishments, jam-packing our resumes, calendars, and Facebook friends list until we don't have a single spare moment to ourselves. From the outside, it looks like a "full life;" on the inside, it feels pretty empty. How can something so empty feel so heavy? First of all, "more" isn't necessarily "better." Have you ever been behind a group of tween girls ordering their drinks in a coffee shop? They like the fru-fru girly coffees, with lots of sugar, calories, and every possible option, extra this, extra that...Aside from taking FIVE-EVER (I just learned this term from my daughter-...

It's Monday, again, and in the afterglow of a weekend of wonderful worship and refreshing family fun, we plunge back into the doldrums of daily duties with revived enthusiasm. Then it hits--the feeling of dread, restlessness, irrelevance. However delightful and favorable your workplace may be, you're probably feeling it today--like a kid stomping back to school after a four-day weekend, sullen-faced, heavy-hearted, and distracted. Mom used to call it the "don't want-to's." Yes, that's it--don't want to be here, don't want to do this---"can't adult today," as my daughter, working her way through college, now says. The expression has come full circle, evolving into Millineal-ese, but the feeling equally familiar to us all. We all occasionally have a sense of not belonging--or at least, not belonging  here , and it has little to do with situational discontent, especially after a break from your usual rolling mountain of duties. The ...