Faith

Faith.
My first thought with writing this was the story that pops up a lot about a drowning man who keeps turning away human help ( helicopters, boats etc.). He dies and asks God why he didn’t help and God replies, “Well I sent you all this help but you turned it away.”
It’s a good reminder that miracles happen every day, they just happen to look like normal occurances. And yet that’s not really faith for me – or, perhaps, not the whole of what it is.

Faith.
For me it’s not really about knowing for sure something’s there. It’s more the comfort of realising what we do means more.

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I know how dark it was for me when I felt alone, as though all had deserted me and I was a ghost to be ignored; a valueless speck to be kicked away. There was a long time when the world turned grey and my feelings and thoughts were just a vanishing muted thing as all my efforts went into surviving day in, day out.

It’s not something I would have escaped on my own, though I didn’t know there were people helping me at the time; my closest family were just slightly more than the shadows that made up my long path to my eyes.
I can’t point to one big thing which helped me the most – yes, they took me away from the bullying so that I could start to heal, but there was so much more they did; every little kindness and act that reminded me I was someone worth being; every time when I sensed them being aware and close by; every forgivness of my mistakes or attempt to share something they loved with me. All these little things which I only half knew to have happened was like a ripple of colour waking things inside which I only became aware of as time passed.

…

Faith is that point when it’s darkest and you stop and listen, and the sense of that warmth of love and support is just there on the edge of your knowing. Yet, it’s also that point that you ask yourself, “Is it worth me doing this little nothing” – do I take the time to wait for that person crossing the road; should I say thank you; do I ask that person if they want help carrying those bags.

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In the first case it’s trusting enough to open up and feel that love ( and that’s a really scary thing to do ), not just the love offered to you but also the love others share among themselves or with strangers, or even just with the world at large.
Those little moments of light such as birdsong and starshine, sunlight and raindrops, all of those things are also kindnesses that help you find your way out of the dark – little bits of love that just flow through life.
All these moments of light and warmth give us strength to keep standing each day.

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In the second instance it’s trusting that, no matter how small what we do feels or how insignificant we may feel, the little things we do can do will create ripples across the world which will be there to give someone the strength they need to go on.

It can seem so pointless to take the extra time for such insignificant acts, especially when you have so many big ones to deal with and so many places to rush to. It’s hard to find the strength and energy to smile and care when you carry so many worries or hurts.
It seems too hard for such a small pay off, and yet, for someone it won’t be small or insignificant – it will be their one light in that day, or the strength they need to make it through to the next; it could even be the first stepping stone they need to start their journey out of the pain.

Remember there’s a well of hope just hidden from view and every kindness and smile can help to fill it.
If anyone has their own views on faith I’d love to hear them.