First Words

Accumulated faith

Faith is a way of life that acquires its layers and contours incrementally, often imperceptibly.

Jason and I retreated to the ICU waiting room to talk about his mother’s precipitous decline. Moments earlier the attending physician had spoken of her imminent death. “Six to 12 hours—maybe,” he said. I wanted to chat with Jason.

Marie is very familiar to me from our congregation; her son far less so. A well-employed 44-year-old techie, he doesn’t take to religion. Best I can tell, it feels superfluous to his larger contentment in life. Because he looked uncomfortable with what was going on that day, I asked him if he was. “Yeah, I am. I don’t wanna be here.”

“Why’s that?” I asked. “Are you uncomfortable because we’re in a hospital, or is it the struggle to let Mom go?”