I have never been one to have faith. I see myself as a recovering atheist and view my husband as a recovering catholic. It seems that I had an aversion to anything organized and anything religious, for a very long time. This included school and sports, pep rallies and games. If it was organized you could find me at the exit sign. My mister, though rebellious at times still found himself at baseball practice and Sunday services. He begged me for years to attend those Sunday services in one fashion or another. I begged him not to. For a short time we agreed to disagree. He took the children and I went to the gym. A woman passed him a note once, to encouraged his path as a single father and was no doubt looking for a response **wink wink. And that was the end of that.
ANYWAAAYS....
In the face of suffering I find myself resting in this feeling of faith. Not in a blind way. More in a hopeful way. Hopeful for meaning, for peace, for compassion.
I know two things to be undoubtedly true,
life is extremely fragile and we are so much stronger than we know.
