A lot of lives begin with false beliefs; Santa, Big Bunnies, Fairies paying for rotting teeth, Princes who will charm. It amazes me that we can develop concrete beliefs, after the letdown. I am honored to have been raised believing in the church and in Christ. How slightly magical it is that my mother was able to love the jolly old man and instill the falsehood of that alongside the realness of God. She showed us how to believe.
She had one of the roughest lives I've known. She had heartbreak, illness, shunning, and failures, yet she smiled. During these struggles, she praised God, instilled her morals and all things necessary to make good women. She had a happiness that enveloped anyone around her. She believed.
When you grow in a world such as this, you tend to have similar struggles. With grace, there is a chance for betterment and fairy tale endings; if you believe.
During my own struggles, even as a young girl, I called on these beliefs to get me to the next step. Lots of steps stood between my tears and joy, at times. I kept climbing. I kept believing.
I saw a post last week about what people believe, when they don’t believe. It baffles me, as it has, how this is possible. I truly don’t understand. I’m not up for a debate, at this time, especially after enlightening you about my wonderful mother. I believe.
Our beliefs are strong and come down for generations. They are like a family heirloom. Everyone in a family is not in receipt of an heirloom. This is true with faith. Not all in the family have the same beliefs; some have none. I am blessed. I have the gift of faith. I continue to believe.