Gift of Faith

Faith- is something that I've never held in anything other than myself. And most of the time, that faith is in short supply as well.

I told my devout christian mother that I didn't believe in god when I was eight. I have trouble remembering the events of last week at times, but I remember that day, and that conversation clearly as if it were yesterday. She was driving, around the loop, in our beat-the-hell up car. And we passed a religious sign by the side of the road. And I told her, in my usual matter-of-fact sort of way. "Mom, I can't believe in god anymore." It was can't, not don't. And that's an important difference in my analytical mind.

She was used to my sudden outspoken observations. And there was a long pause as she deliberated the right response... "Why do you say that, son?" And I told her.

The concept may have been affected by the church members who treated my single mother of two who smoked and had left her husband-like dirt. My opinion may have been slanted by the way they talked ill of her in front of me and my brother, as if we couldn't understand their holier-than-thou slander because we were only children. It certainly didn't help my opinion of Christians in general, and as a whole, and they've never proved any better in the following thirty years. But mainly, it just didn't make sense. Not even to an eight year old. The hypocrisy and the stupidity were obvious. The contradictions seemed oh so clear to my steel trap mind. The faith, the spirituality, the yearning for a Father to guide me- it just rang hollow, even to a bastard like myself.

And I explained this all to my mother, who believed with all her heart and soul in Jesus and our lord and my only hope for salvation being in accepting HIM.

And she listened to what I had to say, and she rolled it around it in her head, and she said the only thing she could say- because I got my love of truth from her- even if the truths we came around to understanding were two different things=

"I hate to hear you say that son and I hope you change your mind. But-I respect your opinion and I won't make you go to church if that is the way you feel."

She looked hard at me, with those deepest of eyes, and I remember that smile that was sad and at the same time proud.

And my faith is in myself, because she gave me that gift, with her respect and her acceptance of what I had to say. She never doubted my ability to think for myself. She guided, but she never pushed.

I've studied religion with a fervor bordering on obsession since then, but I've never found a reason to have faith for it any more than I did as an eight year old.

I have wanted to prove myself wrong at times, because my respect for my mother's opinion was as such. But, the gods have never moved me with the spirit, as they say.

But whatever faith I possess, I consider a gift from her- for not doubting in me.