Faith

Faith is a tricky thing.  We’re asked to believe without seeing, trust without proof.  But the reality is, we do this naturally, from a very young age.   We know that love is real because we feel it; we believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy because we really want to; we know we are taken care of because we have food to eat and clothes to wear and a place to sleep. And then we’re tested: bad things happen; we discover who Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy really were the whole time; we realize that we need to learn how to take care of and provide for ourselves.  

When we’re young, if we’re lucky, we have grown-ups in our lives whose faith in God or something unseen (my favorite expression of this is the Athabascan Indian word for God, which translates to “the Great Mysterious”) guides them.  Many times as a young adult, when I was struggling to find or hold onto some sort of faith, when I was dealing with setbacks, when I did not yet know how to take care of myself very effectively, I let the people I knew whose faith was strong and real carry me.  I suspected that believing wasn’t always easy, that everyone who truly believes struggles, questions, gets angry at God/the universe/whatever (a friend of mine in her seventies says that she and God are not on speaking terms at the moment).  I didn’t think much about it; I just knew that the church was there, that people who loved me, people I respected and admired were there and lived their lives in a certain way because of it.  For me faith was, and is, basically a yes or no question, and I don’t always get bogged down in the details.  Yes, I believe there is more to this world, this life, than we can see and touch. That idea can be expressed in myriad ways, and that’s often enough for me, and if that’s what I’m able to pass along to my children and others, that’s a lot. 

That’s why I think providing a safe and happy place for children to attend church is so critical.  When they are tested, when they are not there for us to hug and kiss every day and we’re not putting presents in their stockings and under their pillows anymore, when they are making their way in a world that is often cold and hard and full of pain, they’ll know that they are loved, that we believe for them when faith may not seem quite real or relevant. 

I have the very great fortune of being able to travel back to Alaska this week, to the seat of my faith, to the place I was first loved and cared for.  I will see people whose lives taught, and teach, me about the power and magic of love.  Despite all my crankiness and impatience with this world, I hope I can be for others what they have been for me.

Bess