The shapes and sizes of courage

This essay was first published on The Daily BS on March 27, 2026.

Here in the heartland, we’ve been subjected to the vagaries of Midwest weather. Right in the middle of leaf clean up last fall, Mother Nature threw a fit, and we lurched straight into winter. After months of a white landscape, the snow melted at last. Buds burst forth on the trees that line the lane, birds began to sing, and then—winter again. Nature is nothing if not bipolar, yet hope springs eternal that spring shall, indeed, return.

With the sun’s reappearance, Mr. Schrock has located a bee in his bonnet. It may be spring fever, I’m not entirely sure, but suddenly he’s ready to renovate. He’s been gathering quotes, looking at samples, choosing colors, interviewing contractors, and eyeballing plans.

The contractor he chose is someone he knows well. This particular gentleman has a solid history in construction. After years of working for others, he has made a big decision. He is going to step out, take a risk, and launch his own business. The work is already coming in, which is exciting. Yet, in talking with him, he admitted to some fear about the venture.

“Courage,” says the dictionary, “is the mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.”

Interesting, that courage is not defined as the absence of fear. This explains why our friend is ready to risk failure and begin a new (ad)venture. His mental and moral strength is greater than his fear. Hopefully, it will lead him to success.

Seeing others practice courage is inspiring. Courage, we know, comes in all shapes and sizes. It can look like single moms. Two in particular come to mind. For the sake of their children and for their own wellbeing, they left dangerous, abusive relationships. Neither one was without fear; far from it, in truth. Yet something greater than fear drove their decisions. That “greater thing” was love.

They loved their children more than convenience, more than comfort, more than life itself. As the years have passed, I’ve watched both of them do the hard, inner work of healing as they shepherded their offspring along the same healing path. Gradually, they’ve gone from surviving to thriving, and their families are benefiting from it. Their courage in the face of hardship heartens me.

For countless souls suffering from chronic disease and pain, courage looks like simply getting up. When the morning sun arises, they put their feet on the floor and stand. Then, putting one shoe before the other, they enter the world, doing what they need to do. This, too, is for love.

My cousin, Twila, is such a soul. School was hard for her as a child, and her academic course ended in grade school. Her spirit, however, was strong. As her siblings moved away, she remained at home with her parents. When her mother died, she became a caretaker for her father. Her learning disability did not hinder her love, goodwill, and cheer. She was a tremendous consolation to him in his old age, and she saw him to the finish line.

Now, she resides in an assisted-living facility. For years, she’s fought a pitched battle with bone cancer, but her courage and cheer shine brightly through every treatment.

At some point in her cancer journey, she began a daily ministry of which I am a beneficiary. Twice a day, my phone pings with a text. “Good morning. I love you,” she’ll say to me and a wide circle of friends and family. “I am having chemo on Tuesday,” she might add. Or this, “I am praying for you.”

At day’s end, she signs off. “Good night. I love you.” Her day begins and ends with love.

To every reply I send, she answers with just a word. “Okay.” On treatment days, “Okay.” In the haze of chemo-induced nausea, “Okay.” In her pain-free, happy hours, then, too, “Okay.” By her cheerful attitude and strong faith in God, she displays a remarkable courage.

Our Aunt Esther had courage, too. As a single woman, she loved children. Like nearly all of her ten siblings, she never went to high school, receiving only an elementary education in an Amish country school. The lack of a degree did not stop her from pursuing her passion, for love does not require a formal education.

Though she never got married, she did not deny her innate maternal instinct. Rather, she embraced it. On her own and all alone, she became a foster parent. She did not shy away from difficult cases, opening her home to those whom God brought her. That was how she saw it.

For decades, she mothered a multitude of children; far more, actually, than she ever could have as a wife and mother in the traditional sense. In her relentless, unwavering commitment to those underprivileged children, I see a true and real courage.

Courage like this perseveres through difficulty, opposition, and danger because it springs from that moral and mental strength. Character is essential to courage, and courage, acting wisely, builds character.

It is grounded in wisdom. It is not reckless, careless, or impulsive. It calculates the risks, assesses the need, and takes the action that is right. Such courage is contagious. May we all be carriers of the same.