Faith

 

Friend, you ask me why I still believe,
well, it’s this little memory
of standing at a frost-laced window
in my upstairs bedroom,
looking out over a winter morning,
how the sun transfigured my village,
how the snow, like New Testament raiment,
clothed the skeletons of my grandmother’s caraganas,
how our neighbours, Harold and Betty,
were more truly, Moses and Zipporah,
parting the snow on their driveway
with silvery shovels;
and all my juvenile brooding
relented to some far away song,
that drew to my lips the name of Christ;

and it’s this small memory, many Sundays ago,
mid-morning Eucharist, and I happened
to sit by a lady who kept getting lost
during the singing, paging through the few sheets
of large-print songs provided for her,
and I kept helping her find her place,
and after the service she leaned over, said,
thank you I love you very much;

and now, down these galloping years
I hear, still, these melodies deep in the bones
of my soul, fanning faith’s embers,
through what my heart remembers.

 

11 Comments

  1. A powerful memory the lady bestowed upon you. You words and feelings are almost tangible and remind me that I too believe. Thank you Stephen.

  2. I love how defining moments, like the ones you so eloquently captured, come in the guise of the ordinary and every day. God gives us epiphanies which pierce our souls with so much joy they remain forever memorable. They make believing a given. Thank you for sharing them.

  3. Beautiful picture words and memories. Thanks Steve.
    Sitting in church as a child I remember the large painting of Christ’s head at the front of the church – a picture of love. That picture/memory still comes to mind
    when I think of the love He had for mankind and the sacrifice He made for each. one.

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