I just finished Anne Lamott’s book, Almost Everything.
I love her writing, but mostly, I love her honesty about how difficult life can be and the way she faces that difficulty with an understanding of herself and of her faith.
Her story and mine are very different, but her life, her thoughts, and her stories inspire me. Through everything, she has held on to her faith and to the practices that ground her in that faith. She knows herself. And she shares that self with others in such a beautiful way.
My faith is the size of a mustard seed. I know the Bible says that’s enough, but trust me, it doesn’t feel like it. (I also haven’t put too much stock in the Bible since I found out that there was supposed to be a gospel of Mary Magdelene but the all male church voted it out of the final book).
The thing is, I don’t know how to be that part of me anymore; that believing part that can make things happen just with the size of her belief.
Sometimes I feel like faith is a bit like the slot machines at the casino – I am willing to risk $20, but that’s about it, without some guarantee of a return.
The faith I grew up with had all of the answers. If you did the right thing, made the right choices, and confessed your sins, you would be forgiven and this would result in a happy life that had the magic seal of approval from friends and family and, of course, Heaven.
Clearly, I didn’t get the magic seal of approval. Like, ever.
Actually, my decision to follow my heart years ago resulted in the seal of disapproval: I lost friends, left my job, and put considerable strain on my family. My faith was much stronger then, and I believed with my whole being that I was where I was meant to be. We were so confident in “us,” and we overcame the disbelief of others and built something pretty great.
Until that damn bald spot.
Not mine, his.
It’s amazing that one person’s bald spot could lead to another person losing everything she thought life was about.
So, here I am with faith the size of a mustard seed, trying to redraw the guiderails of my life. As I draw, I am realizing that most of what we believe to be true when we are younger is a fairy tale.
I want to believe that my faith is big enough to see me through this endless uncertainty and to a place that feels “right.” But, the size of my doubt is fairly daunting.
Fairy tales are meant to have a moral – a message that guides us toward making better decisions in life. If my life has a moral or a message, I think it would be something about believing in yourself, even if your faith is only the size of a mustard seed, but since I am still in the part of the fairy tale where I am battling the wolves, we still have time to figure it all out.
Anne Lamott says that hope is everything and that believing in something bigger than ourselves can sustain us through some dark times. I choose to believe that, too.
At least, I do, most of the time.
