Walking outside with dogs, hoping for a glimpse of tangerine sunrise and I’m happy to turn back, look up and get crescent moon instead. It’s my favorite moon.
Makes me hopeful for things happening in places I can’t see yet.
Makes me believe, stay faithful.
Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for.
Inspires me not to give up.
Like faith, believing the things I see now.
Things that caught me by surprise.
Hoping for the fullness not seen yet.
Holding onto hope like thumb and index squeezing pretty ribbons trailing balloons.
You may have heard the verse. It’s become the trendy quote, the go-to for hope. The definition of hope, an anchor for your soul.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. Hebrews 6:19
There’s strength in this verse. The idea of being firmly secure, able to drift only just so far…our souls in a place of safety, anchored, sure to stay put. That’s a good feeling; but, hope’s something more to me.
Something a little lighter, a little brighter, even whimsical.
Like pretty balloons gathered together for celebration.
Imagine if we all went through our days balloons tied to our wrists or held gingerly as we stopped to acknowledge a friend.
Think of your day, appointments handled, issues resolved, periwinkle colored balloon hovering above your desk.
What joy it would be to turn upon waking and see it there, tied to nightstand drawer pull, moving ever so slightly as you begin your day.
Most of all think of the countenance upon our faces as we paused, intermittently to look towards balloon.
Well, that for me is hope.
It’s looking up towards heaven reminded that hope’s still there.
It’s the crescent moon, crisp and bright against morning sky.
It’s expecting sullen sky and turning back towards home to see pearly white clouds filtering light.
It’s being reminded of what we’ve held in our hand all along.
Hope and faith, balloons and anchors
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