Saturday, March 15, 2014

But what is faith?

My father told me, your faith can heal you. I’m lying in bed, shivering with fever. Six years old. Faith, what is that? I thought it sounded yellow, the crayon I had to press hard into the paper to make show. I wondered if faith was like Peter Pan's plea, if you believe in fairies, clap your hands. I believed. I thought my father’s words meant if I wanted something desperately enough, my own wanting would make it so. Only much later did I learn I had to hook faith onto something bigger than me, and that faith didn't assure a specific result, but a ride. So I harnessed myself to a shooting star and I didn't let go. And we’ve been careening around the universe ever since. 

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