As often as Chris and I spend time together (which is ALL THE TIME) is probably WAY more often than I consider thinking about what I think about faith.

On our way back from the Outer Banks in North Carolina yesterday, Chris and I got to talking about the presence of God and faith.  I was freaking out about living in the middle of nowhere, and trying to explain an irrational fear I have of dying.  Well, more specifically, of being home alone, having someone break in and being raped and killed.  And THEN having no one know about it.  Chris’ opinion on the issue is that when God decides it’s my time to go, then it will be my time to go, and I shouldn’t let this fear control my life.

Which it doesn’t.  Not usually.  Sometimes it makes its presence known.  Usually at the most inappropriate moment.

But then Chris asked me the hard questions: a) do I believe in God, and b) do I have faith.  The answers were, respectively, yes and I don’t know.

Chris told me about times when he didn’t have faith, and times when he did have it.  And why it’s so important to him to attend a Catholic mass as much as possible.

For me, it’s not the same.  Yes, I do attend mass.  When I can.  Which is usually about once a week, sometimes more.  But I don’t go for me.  I go for him.  I believe in God.  And I was raised Catholic.  But I don’t go to church for me.

And I wonder if that’s hurting me.  I wonder if I’m on the outside looking in, in the situation, because I don’t necessarily have faith.  And I wonder if my questioning is a problem.

We went to Catholic mass early this morning.  And I had trouble concentrating on the sermon.  Mostly because I thought about every single person in that church.  Did they all believe?  Or were they all going through the motions?  Have any of them found faith?  Or are some still searching?  And more importantly, am I alone?

I guess I’m having a problem with the fact that I don’t have faith at the moment.  Definitively, I DO have faith.  I have faith in myself.  I have faith that if I work hard enough and make lists, I WILL accomplish things I need to accomplish.

But in having faith in myself, I don’t have faith that someday I won’t be raped, killed and dumped on the side of the road, as irrational and uncommon as that is – or isn’t.  I have faith in myself in that I know I will survive anything that comes my way, because I’m a survivor.  But I don’t attribute that to anyone but myself.

And I wonder if that’s a problem.

And I wonder if I will ever have a solid faith.  And if someday I won’t just be going through the motions.  And I wonder if something significant needs to happen in order for me to discover my faith.

Are you there, God?  It’s me, Virginia.

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