I have a mote of faith.
It really is quite small.
It appears tiny beside my doubts.
But it has withstood great trials and storms.
I worry my faith will slip through my fingers.
Or blow away in the wind.
Or break under life’s pressures.
Or flee when it feels threatened.
It has wavered.
It has faltered.
But it has never left for good.
My mote of faith seems so flimsy at times.
But it has proven difficult to completely loose.
Small as it is, my mote of faith has borne burdens like an ox.
It has carried me from there to here—
Even when life’s roads were rocky and uncertain.
There is so much to fear in this world today.
And there are great amounts of hate.
I have my doubts.
And questions abound.
But I maintain my mote of faith.