WHERE COURAGE LIVES

Most people see courage in brave events, barnstorming speeches and dramatic moments. But what interests me is something slightly different. Where does courage live? Where is it grown?

Nature tells a far quieter story. After weeks of growing unseen beneath the earth’s surface a plant simply appears. A tiny green shoot quietly pushes gently through the soil, drawn towards the light, moving in the only direction it can, millimetre by millimetre.  Small increments but always moving up.

Recently, I have begun to notice courage appearing in many different forms. Some are obvious. Others are so quiet we hardly recognise them.

For me, courage is taking a small step when you are feeling fear.

Not a giant leap.

Not confidence.

Not certainty.

Just one step.

We spend much of our lives waiting for confidence when more realistically maybe all that is required is one small step.

Confidence walks into the room believing it belongs there.

Courage may pause outside the door.

It may check the time, wonder whether coming was a mistake, consider turning around and then open the door anyway.

Perhaps courage has never been about feeling ready.

Perhaps it has always been about taking the next small step.