Faith is a verb.
Active in the present tense. Revealing its power —
Truth and beauty —
Like a double mctwist 1260 —
In the air.
And at the point of impact.
Without faith, there is no letting go. Without faith, there is no flow.
As far as I’ve come in my journey to live by faith, the vice grip of anxiety still knows where to find me. Continues to slip through the window into my mind, uninvited —
A double shot of doubt and fear to the heart — so real, so intense, so credible that I cannot ignore it. Feel I must act on it — and indeed I will, with haste, and let’s not forget gratitude. Because this is my life that’s being saved, you understand, and thank you God for alerting me. For sparing me these horribly painful consequences. For saving my —
And then, with the grace of a flying tomato, I remember —
Faith is a verb.
A well-toned muscle I’m learning to flex precisely at the moment I want to run for my life. A voice that says —
“Go ahead and pause. Then take a deep breath and let it go, let it flow.”
Easier said, than done — I know. But I think I’m on to an effective little short cut.
When things begin to twitch, and I want to ditch — I call forth an experience when I didn’t have to think, or force or strain — when I was completely loose and one with the moment —
Which is oddly enough, when I have also had less of a stake in needing something to turn out a certain way.
The chance meeting, the unexpected arrow to the heart —
Or, the most amazing photo opp that comes at the most inopportune moment.
Somehow I find the grace to do just about anything to get the shot —
Knowing there are no guarantees.
Only intentions and actions.
In the end, the shot might be more spectacular than imagined. Or it might suck.
Either way —
It is worth taking.