But
faith is something that I'm realizing is embedded more and more into every day
life as I continue my journey so I find
it cropping up here, though not in a way I could have predicted.
It's
strange because I used to think I lived my life walking by faith. I wondered
why a mustard seed or any other smidgeon of faith was so hard to come by for
the remainder of the population.
Turns
out, I used to be a person of certainty--not faith. I knew what I liked. I knew
what I didn't like--even without trying it. From the time I can remember, I
knew what I wanted my future to look like and set about achieving it. I knew
what I believed. Sheesh! I even knew that what I believed was right.
It was
so easy. Life went like this: Something predictable happens. I respond in a
predictable way, with confidence that this particular way is the
"right" way. Predictable event ends. Repeat.
For
years, this is how life played out. Sure, things occassionally deviaited from
the predictable plan, but for the most part I got what I wanted and I wanted
what I got. Certaibly there were times, large periods of time in fact, when
things didn't happen the way I wanted, but they happened the way I expected.
Even in the worst of times, I knew they were coming, and had a detailed plan on
how I'd handle it according to my familiar set of rules. "There are
advantages to being a pessimist," I'd tell myself. "Expeccting the
worst means you are prepared for the worst. And never disappointed." It
felt good.
Do you
know what I am talking about? How can I articulate the safety and comfort that
comes from the rigidity only certainty
can provide? It's cautiously wonderful and, dare I say, beautiful? For those of
you concerned, I say "beautiful" fully knowing that beauty is only
beauty to you when it is subdued and possibly sedated. After all, when you are
that guarded against pain and surprise, you are equally guarded against the
pleasure and goodness you can take in. And for good reason: When you live
within the columns of a tightly controlled spreadsheet, where all inputs are
automatically tabulated and summarized at the end of the page, you come to
believe that beauty rests in the order and that all pleasure is best when
muted. Anything more than that might impact your tightly calibrated system in unanticpated
ways.
All of
this goes along smoothly as it always has. Maybe you go to college and
concentrate on your already decided major. Or maybe you've done your research
and know that "higher education" isn't needed for your career of
choice, so you save yourself the debt and take pride in your risk-benefit
analysis at the ripe age of 18. At some point you may choose to find a partner
(or not), start a family (or not), and maybe take on your own flock of ducks
(or not).
Then it
happens.
A small,
unexpected thing. A huge NIMBY. A series of events that individually wouldn't
matter, but in sum amount to more weight than you can handle. A repition of the
family cycle you worked so hard to avoid. A birthday or milestone that snuck
upon you in a way nothing else has. Whatever it is, it wedges itself beneath
your foundation, pushing itself under the fulcrum of your grounding and tips
you over into a new reality.
Then
suddenly you are left with the profound shock that you have nothing you can
truly count on. Something as simple as turning on the light in the kitchen
requires a trust and faith in electricity, your light bulbs and your ability to
flip the switch, and something as natural as ducks laying eggs is as out of
your control as the length of harvest. Death and taxes are likely occurances,
not certainties.
I wonder
if most people started out where I've ended up or if others go through a
transition like this at some point in later in life. I'm still learning what
life looks like on the other side of the mirror, and mostly, how to cope with
it.
"The
opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty." Anne Lamott
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