My best friend moved back to Missouri yesterday. Thankfully, Waco is on I-35 between Austin and Columbia, so she stopped in town and we shopped around a little bit.
People of America coming to Waco for Magnolia – the Silos are great and all, but also stop by Spice. You’re welcome.
Anyway, while we were shopping, I came across a bracelet with the word hope on it. Something about that word stood out to me, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It wasn’t until last night when I took the bracelet off before going to be that it hit me.
This season of life that I’m in right now can perfectly be summed up in that one word. And it all started back in September, six months after moving back to Waco.
I had just joined Highland Baptist in Waco and noticed they had something called Hoops for Hope – a nonprofit organization that teaches basketball skills with the message of hope. Y’all know me, I’m all about basketball. So I signed up to coach Hoops Huddle during the school year.
And my team of fifth graders were the best. They went from sighing with disdain when we asked them to do a crossover dribble between their legs. Then they progressed to doing some sort of karate kick while bouncing the ball under it. Finally, they were legit doing it, and with grins spreading across their faces I might add.
Now, I’m a little over two weeks from going to Spain with Hoops for Hope.
Thank you Jesus for translators and the Babbel app because my Spanish consists of – tacos and no se (I don’t know).
Hope is a confident expectation, a desire for something good. Not because we’re 99 percent sure that the opposite will happen. But because we can be 100 percent sure because He who promised is faithful (Heb. 10:23).
As I turned to my journal to jot down these thoughts, I saw the word, Hope, yet again.