I want to believe in heaven for the bearded woman who waits for the bus every day on Johnson Street, laughing nonsensically with her boots untied and interjecting obscenities, making the kids around her step back. I want that peace for her.
I want to believe in God to shut up the naysayers. I want there to be something unexplainable and yet that which explains, order among the chaos yet simultaneous chaos among the order. I want to find out what comets, stars, and moons are all about and not fear the night sky for how immense it is.
Winter does strange things to one's faith. Many things do, to be fair, but particularly long and trying seasons result in two coping strategies.
1) Give up, find faith in something a bit more tangible.
or
2) Hold on and hope for an end.
I'm in the latter category, thought plenty of those around me are in going for #1 these days. I can't say I blame them. The more I lament about my oh so utterly desperate state in life, the more I realize how ridiculous I am. The more I look at the world and figure out how it works, the more I realize how interconnected and vastly complicated this all is. And yet, despite how locked in a handful of people want it to be, you carve yourself a space and hunker down. You make it fit, you try to make it fit for others when that fits for you. Hold on, hope for a light at the end of the tunnel.
This month was a test, I realize. Usually I shy away from that language, but that's exactly what happened. I got thrown into a situation that I didn't want to be with, without supports, with grudges and setbacks. I worked through and now the ground around me is less shaky. Heaven, or some sort of reward, seems attainable, even if we have to make it down here. That's fine. I'm not picky.
Things are clearer and calmer these days, thank God. The sun shines and the thermometer hits twenty-five -- you think we'd won the war, we're that happy. Right now things are good. We'll deal with the next snowstorm when it comes, and not a moment sooner.