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...