When all Hope is Gone

Staring into our backyard pond, I knew the koi were dead. The evidence was undeniable. We’d seen the scary-looking Blue Heron circling the yard, caught him standing in the ponds, and found his sandy footprints on top of my husband Rick’s truck.

I wrote about Rick’s beloved koi here in Guideposts magazine. They were given to him a long time ago and must have been about twenty years old. He built two small ponds in our backyard for them.

Boy, he loved those fish.

When he got home from work, the koi would be smiling at the top of the water waiting to be fed. He’d tell them hey, and toss in a handful of food.

But there’d been no sign of life for six weeks. Not since we saw the Blue Heron.

Rick inched a boat paddle across every inch of the ponds.

No air bubbles. No movement except for frogs.

Nothing.

Every night since they disappeared, I found find him staring into the water, but I quit looking for them. Hanging onto hope would be foolish.

Last weekend, Thomas’s girlfriend Brittany came over. Walking by the ponds she said, “When did y’all get new koi?”

Sure enough. There they were–six yellow, orange, and black speckled koi, putting on a show for us!

Somehow these remaining six had survived the Blue Heron.

“Must have hidden way back under the bushes,” Rick said. “But I don’t see how. I ran the paddle along the sides too.”

 Watching the remarkable fish, God seemed to suggest a thought.

When things look dark and hopeless, Julie, when there’s no movement whatsoever, hang on tight to hope. I still have a plan.

“Let us continue to hold firmly to the hope we confess…” Heb. 10:23 ISV

*picture of Blue Heron Lake Nock from Flickr Creative Commons. (dbf photos)

Praying for you, my dear friends.

Love,

Julie