I feel like I’ve taken that
long leap again, the one where I can’t tell if I’ve been conned or not and I’ve
been up there wondering how it’s going to end. And it’s not just me this time risking
a crash landing, and I’m not young anymore. The stakes are higher. The repercussion
of a false hope, if that’s what it is, I will not be bouncing back from. If I
land hard, others land hard with me. I’ve said before, faith is not for the squeamish,
it looks a lot like denial, and it is built in fear. It pushes you right to the
edge, leans you over a bit for the panoramic view. Faith is not blind to its
precarious position, relying on the unknown. It gives no guaranties for this side
of the veil and my ability to self-deceive, my penchant for it, makes at least
some denial inevitable. I am in that place of waiting in between the now and
the not yet, relying on mercy as much as anything else. Oblivion waits around
every corner. My failure to cover all the bases is the human condition. Mercy
and grace are the only shield.
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