Hope

Sometimes I sit back and marvel at the way the Lord does things, especially when it comes to topics I need to hear or things I need to think about (or give up to my All-knowing Father).  That being said, I have been thinking alot about hope and hopelessness.  You might imagine my surprise (and yet my feeling of "I shouldn't be surprised at all"ness) as I read Kate Motaung's word for today's Five Minute Friday: Hope. (http://katemotaung.com/)
*Disclaimer: I didn't get all I wanted to say within the 5-minute time frame, so here's 5 minutes worth of thoughts and then some.  Also, I did some editing for clarification purposes (and because I have a somewhat-stronger-than-moderate case of perfectionism).

   I walked along our family's dirt lane.  The evening sky was growing darker both with the passing of time and the rain that was threatening with noise and wind.  I felt lacking in hope for some reason.  I've been listening to Dave Ramsey talk about not losing hope in the face of debt, I've been getting texts from a dear friend who is ministering to the down-and-out in a huge city far away.  Hope in that place is scarce and the lack thereof can be terrifying.  Only at the mission, she says, does she find a glimmer, an expectancy, that things are getting better for these people as they surrender to Christ and let Him fix their brokenness.  I've also been struggling with hopefulness (or maybe -lessness)  in light of the recent passing of my grandparents.  I know that things aren't bleak and that I'm probably going through some natural grieving process, but at times, life seems very dim and Heaven seems like such a long time to have to wait for.  As I walked along with all these things swirling in my head, I looked up into that beautiful big sky I am so enamored with out where I live.  A dark cloud was the backdrop, huge and looming.  But there was something else.  A blink-blink-ing.  It was an unflustered white egret flying against the darkening sky.  Its wings against the deep blue seemed to turn on and off, blink-blink.  A streak of lightning miles away streamed down "right in front" of the bird seeming to try to discourage the determined creature as it steadily propelled itself forward.  Its wings bobbing up and down somehow gave me such an assurance; things weren't as bleak as I thought.  Not that a bird was some kind of sign that things were going to be okay, but in a way, it was.  It was a sign that spoke loud and clearly that my Heavenly Father was in control of all things: the storm, the animal kingdom, my dearest relations, and me, and that He is definitely trustworthy enough to hope in.