Having Faith

Awesomely tongue-in-cheek banner from Megan Galante

Honesty is the policy I try to abide by, on this blog and elsewhere, so I must admit, it has been a bumpy couple of days here at (temporary) Casa SMJ.  What to say?  The hub and I bit off a huge mouthful with this move:  a new job for him, a new incarnation for me at my job, no more daycare for our boy, a new city by way of another new city, the odyssey of the homeless dog, moving in with my parents, the Boston real estate rollercoaster... I could go on and on.  Altogether, it seems to have amounted to a bit more than we can chew, and there is some collective choking going on this week.  I am calling out for a Heimlich here.

At these times, the only thing I know is that I need to Have Faith.  But what does that mean really?  What does faith mean to a Jew who posted a grilled bread salad recipe in the middle of Passover?  What is faith to someone who hasn't made it to a house of worship anytime in recent memory?  I want to cling to this intangible notion that someone, somewhere is looking out for our best interests, but when I look at the randomness of the hard times in the world (and, of course, see how our First World problems pale in comparison), I find it hard to believe that someone is especially concerned about whether we find an apartment with laundry and parking, on a decent T line, sometime in the next 2 months.  I want to have faith in the husband and me as grown-ups: that we'll find the best way to conduct ourselves even when we're buried under a mountain of stressors, that we'll make the best decisions... fiscally, geographically, for our son and for eachother... but sometimes I get scared that we're just overgrown kids who haven't the slightest notion what we are doing.  What I keep coming back to is Faith.  I have to believe that we're on a pre-determined path bringing us to something better.  I do believe it.  I do.

One morning, visiting my in-laws years ago, my mother-in-law's best friend came down for morning coffee wearing a bright green t-shirt that said "This Girl Knows that God is in Control".  That shirt made me smile that day and has stuck with me ever sense.  While Ms. Pesach Bread Griller here is clearly no devout anything, something about the notion of this absolute trust in someone with a higher plan comforted and inspired me.  Whether you think of God as a big man with a beard or an intangible, omnipresent force, doesn't feel just a little better to imagine him/her/it being there?  Thinking that someone else is in control in a time like this is a balm I can't resist.  Does that make me weak or wise?  I'm just not sure.

In any case, it has been a sort of a week of half-eaten veggie burgers and buttered toast so far, so I am afraid I don't have any recipes to share.  Iced coffee, Sauvignon Blanc and my running shoes have been my main companions.  And, of course, my beautiful family (by blood, by marriage, and by sisterhood), for whom I wake up every day, and who have all rallied around us near and far to get us through this little rough spot.  I have faith in them most of all.  I am filled with gratitude to them for being there, and to you for listening.  I have faith that with them in our corner, and with the husband and me together, anything is possible.

Tell me, what do you do to keep the faith?