Plenty of Nothing


It is impossible to overstate how very scared I am.  About my prospects for future employment and the financial scarcity that entails.  About losing my illusions that someday I would have adult life figured out, with a little house to call my own.  Someday has arrived, and I am pretty sure I missed my turn-off for Futureville. But faith, it seems, has a lesson for me.

In the past when I have considered faith, it has seemed like a demented, cheerful bully, shoving its wild, grimaced clench of a smile into the fragile core of my uncertainty.  I think I see faith that way because that is, in fact, what a lot of people call the wall of blindness through which no real doubt can ever penetrate.

Now I am feeling faith is something else – a tender, skinless thing quivering alongside me with every jolt of fear.  This faith has no answers besides its presence.  It promises me nothing – nothing different, nothing new, and certainly not safety.  And yet as it hunkers beside me – not waiting out the storm but knee high in the sh*t – it whispers simply that everything is changing.  That I do not know everything.  That where there is darkness, there may also be light.

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