These two inch buds have my respect. Rather than waiting for more congenial breezes, they plunged out of the cold dirt and through the snow to reach the sunlight. That takes grit. Although the word grit does not fit well on a crocus so I will go with hopeful.

There is a story in the Bible about when the Children of Israel were chasing freedom to escape from slavery. God told them to stride into the Red Sea before the tide miraculously subsided, offering safe passage. When I read the story I am privy to how it ends so the first part does not strike me as especially gutsy. Obviously they will make it. Every child who has ever eaten crackers and juice at Sunday School knows that. But they didn't. Going forward into what still looked suspiciously like deep water probably felt risky.

Stupid, perhaps. 

Acting on a sure bet is not grounds for heroism. There is no need to draw on trust, or prayer. Turn the switch and the overhead lights go on. No uncertainty there. Walk out the door without a coat in August and you will be spared the need to shiver. Whatever.

But stepping into odds, as we do every day, takes a different kind of ignorance.

Maybe my partner did not put gas in the car like I asked, but I will ignore that. I can take a few minutes to fill the tank.

Perhaps my spouse does not ask how my day was, as I long for him to. I will slice through the silence and ask about his. 

Because as far as I can tell, that kind of grit paves the path out of slavery.