Faith for the faithless?


What is faith and where does it come from? Is it belief in self, in someone, in someone or thing higher than you? What’s the different between belief and faith?

I’ve been questioning faith a lot lately, probably more than I should. The holidays are tough for everyone. For me they were especially tough in 2003, the first Christmas after dad died. It was tough in 2005 for about 2.5 seconds. And they are tough this year.

I am having a crisis of the spirit, at least that’s what I’m calling it. My faith, mostly in myself, is waning. How do I continue to believe in myself, my abilities as a writer, as a woman when I consider myself a failure?

I live in a strange city with no one I would call a friend, sick and just about muse less. I’ve not written in some weeks now and I can’t bring myself to write more that just a couple of blog posts. My spirit is weary, as is my mind. I feel that I’ve not accomplished my goals and never will. I feel an internal ticking signaling that time is running out to make my mark on the world.

What will be my legacy? For awhile I thought it would be my work. But newsprint fades. Well then, my words. The road to publishing is not for the weak at heart and I keep bumping my head on a brick wall with so many challenges against me. Children? None and there are no plans for any.

That leaves the people and the lives I’ve touched. My friends would say that I’ve somehow made their lives better. I thank them for their gracious words but how could I be a good friend, the type that I want to be, living so far away (even though I’m closer than I’ve been in awhile.)

I should be thankful because except for my limp, I am in good health. I have a job. I have an amazing cat. I have friends and family. From that aspect, my life is good but like all stupid mortals, I want more. I want to be more, more of a friend, a daughter. I want to have happiness swirl around me and live the life that makes me weep with joy. I yearn for it. I use to have that life until Oct. 16, 2002. Until March 26, 2003. Respectively, the day my dad died and the day I moved away from my home town.

It feels a bit like a life interrupted and that I’m working in vain to recover it or from it. Is that life gone? Are there prospects for a better one?

Faith.

Faith in myself that I will pull through this. Faith that there is a better life. Faith that I will leave a happy legacy.

I’m just finding it difficult to cling on to it lately.

But what is faith if it is not tested?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s