Faith

“Faith is like a bird that feels dawn breaking, but sings while it is still dark.”

~ Kalil Gibran


Somehow I just believed.

Somehow, despite months of darkness, I knew that there was light.

We knew that there was light.

Early moments: lying on the sand at Botanical beach, the heat of July soaking us, the pockets of water that team with life stretched out towards the rippled horizon. She rests in my arms, her skin under my fingers. Then we’re exploring, she is showing me the secret world of tide pools, places I might otherwise walk past with merely a glance. Its not the life beneath the water that I marvel at, but the life dancing in her eyes.

That’s the moment I fell in love. That very moment.

It was like falling into one of those tide pools. A shock. Unexpected. This wasn’t supposed to happen. But like morning's swift approach, there was no struggling against it.

Early moments: the dizzy delirium of falling. The way she looks at me. Speaks to me. I can feel the love though she can’t say the word. Not yet.

Early moments: racing down the highway, out of Strathcona Park, Moby’s Hotel filling my ears, the windows open, the sun shining in, and I’m going to pick her up on my way to Victoria. Pure delight. Pure light.

In those early moments I saw a lifetime of possibility. This is how I want to feel for the rest of my life.

It was that light, that possibility that helped me, helped us, navigate very troubled waters. The darkest moments before the dawn.

She asked me to believe in her. To trust her. It became my mantra. I would meditate on those words: I trust you; I believe in you.

I believed in us.

I had felt dawn breaking. I knew what dawn felt like. Soft fingertips. Loving eyes. Belief beyond words.

During the darkness I held onto that belief. That trust.

First light came a month ago. It seems like we move in 28 day cycles, she and I.

I had been prepared to let go, forever, if that is what was needed for her to be at peace. Her peace was what I dreamed of, and was prepared to give her, even if it meant goodbye once and for all.

But when she walked through my door, I knew that my faith, my belief, my trust in us had been vindicated. She knew too.

Later that week she said “look at me.” I was already. She said, “really look at me.” And then she told me that she loved me, was in love with me, and that I was the man she didn’t know that she had been searching for her whole life, but had somehow found.

Faith is a bird….

Mornings in her arms. We slip down the Oregon Coast. Become enchanted by sea otter play. Have normal nights. Dream together. Bliss. Watch salmon spawn with my boyz.

It was easy. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it was easy to have faith. Despite the darkest of times, the fear, the vulnerability, it was easy to have faith.

We’re not out of the woods yet. There will be many dawns that we must hold our faith through before morning finally comes for good. Maybe morning never really lasts, but like the diurnal rhythm we all share, we simply pass through mornings and nights over and over, believing, trusting, and falling more deeply in love.