I want to believe.
I want to believe.
Sometimes my heart absolutely aches with the desire to believe in a god who is ever-present and loving. Who doesn’t say things like, “If you don’t love Me and believe everything exactly right, I’ll throw you into a lake of eternal torment and fire.”
Sometimes I get glimpses of a love like that. But most of the time it feels like the longings of a small child who really believes that Santa will remember her this year.
I am so angry. And yet I’m not angry at all. I just ache. Every pore of my being aches for some confirmation, some proof that isn’t the faux apologetics of my entire life.
But in the meantime, I’m trying to soak up the goodness in the world around me.
A warm puppy who snuggles close when I’m sad.
Nestling into my husband’s body, where I have never felt so safe in my life.
Laughing and adventuring with Paige.
Reading beautiful words from Caleigh, Hännah, Elizabeth, Dianna, Sarah, Grace, Toranse, Tori and feeling in my heart that maybe we could really truly be friends (even though that longing for friendship often gets lost in the conviction that I come on way too fast and hard and will just scare them all away).
Snow that’s a little bit more like concrete that also seems to not lose its beauty so quickly.
Christmas lights and decorations in my house and on my house that bring an inexplicable joy.
Holding my baby nephew and softly singing him to sleep. (Good thing he likes deep voices.)
Sitting and forcing myself to play through the entirety of “Christmastime is Here” and being tickled that I can still stretch to hit that 13th stretch, even though I butchered the song.
I’m just…I want to believe, but at the same time I have to find joy even when I don’t. I have to know that it’s okay not to believe. Good things happen, good things exist, even in doubt and uncertainty. And if they exist in doubt and uncertainty, they will exist still in belief.