“For I know the plans I have for you, says God, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” Jeremiah 29:11

On my morning walk I was reveling in the cool temperatures of the evolving summer’s day and decided to take a little different route by crossing down the High Bridge from St. Paul’s west side to downtown. It was such a glorious sight, the Cathedral of St. Mark rising on the horizon and, so not to be out-shined, the Capitol Building just east, the golden horses gleaming in the early morning sunshine. But these were not the structures that captured my attention. As cars sped by my on the bridge, I stood watching a lowly tugboat moored at the shore of the Mississippi River. At its front and side were large barges. One held huge stone boulders. The other smaller, gravel like stones formed a little mountain of beige on the surface of the steel barge. Workers stood on the shore in their bright, lime green vests. From my elevated vantage point, they looked like toy construction workers our boys played with when they played ‘diggers’ in the sand box.

I looked at the neatly painted tugboat. How did this sweet little boat push all that weight upstream, against the mighty currents of the river? I have thought about this phenomenon before. Tugboats have probably held a fascination for me since my mother told me my grandfather once worked for a short time on a tugboat on the Ohio River. The idea that these little boats are the power behind such tremendous loads seems nearly impossible to me.  I have been privileged to watch them make the significant turns that exist on the river that flows near our house. As they push a boat at least four to five times their size, they delicately guide the barges around bends and curves without running ashore where trees and wildlife, boats and people play and watch. As I stood gazing down, I thought that tugboat captains must act, not only with great skill, but also great faith.

As I was walking back home I couldn’t shake the image of the tugboat. I began to think of those people I know who must feel like tugboats pushing large loads upstream. I thought of those I know who are dealing with great grief and even greater pain. And there are those who are pushing loads of disappointment and fear over life changes they never saw coming. Still others are pushing a barge full of life’s curve balls, thrown at them when they least needed them. They stand at the wheel of the tugboat hoping and praying that they can move the barge past the next bend in their path.

For all those who are pushing more than seems doable, I pray for the wisdom and the faith of the lowly tugboat. May there be deep breaths and clear vision to steer the heaviness through whatever waters you are traveling. And may you soon find yourself moored at a beautiful spot with enough workers to unload whatever you’ve been carrying.

Blessed be.