By Carol Lucas
I find myself frequently drawn to quotes that for some reason jump off the page or the screen and command not just my momentary attention but rather my in-depth consideration. When I was writing the book about my early years of widowhood, my mind was scattered and my heart bruised. Pouring my grief into the computer was cathartic, and eventually these “late-night-into-early-morning” sojourns were compiled to become my story.
As time passed and the book took form, I came to realize I wanted to preface every chapter with a significant quote. I wanted the words of someone else, someone so much more eloquent than I, to reflect my feelings. At the beginning of the book, I composed a letter to the reader, asking that person to be sure to read each quote carefully as it gave introspection and depth to what I was feeling.
And so I was driven to find the perfect quotes, and this took me down a path of revelation; it was a tutorial for which I am grateful. Now when I see a quote that speaks to me, I pause and often record it. In this way I am creating a handbook, a resource of profound introspection, if you will, that serves me much the way the Bible may serve others.
I have found a fellow “devotee of quotes” in Jonathan Haupt, Executive Director of The Pat Conroy Literary Center. He posts beautiful words that are accompanied by equally beautiful pictures of our local vistas. One of his most recent was this:
Faith is a bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.
– Rabindranath Tagore
Take a moment to read these words, and then ask yourself what they mean to you. Given that I consider myself to be spiritual and not religious, you can easily determine why these words took hold and were not summarily dismissed. The imagery is simply exquisite, and the meaning (at least to me) is equally so.
Shortly after I lost my husband in 2001, I began to receive messages that I thought were simply the machinations of a grieving mind. He and I had been high school sweethearts; we attended college together, and were married one semester before I graduated from college. All told, we were together 44 years, and he was, indeed, my rock and my soulmate.
My world was shattered, and for a while, I deemed it lucky to get out of bed, drink my coffee, and get to the mailbox. Then the messages began; at first they were subtle, but my “faith” simply wasn’t sufficiently grounded to accept what was happening. As they became more numerous, I was forced to pay closer attention. Finally, my college philosophy professor, with whom I had kept contact for many years after graduation, suggested I go to Lily Dale, N.Y., stay with them, and visit a medium there. I was intrigued as well as reluctant.
What happened during the first of three visits to this village of mediums erased any doubts I may have had. I saw two women and was given information that they could not have known; I had made it a point when speaking to limit anything about why I was there. After that first visit, I began to pay closer attention to all I was experiencing, and slowly but surely, I was garnering in the faith I needed to mend myself. All of this I have recounted in my book A Breath Away: one woman’s journey through widowhood.
The question I posed earlier, “what is faith?” will be answered easily by those who turn to their religion as the foundation of their faith and their life, for that matter. I will never challenge anyone’s faith as long as they “walk the walk.”
What I call into question are those who purport to be religious but whose actions belie their proclamation. You see, I grew up in a very small town of fewer than a thousand people, a place where everyone knew everyone else and everything about them … the good, the bad, and the ugly. It didn’t take me very long to recognize the rampant hypocrisy within the church to which I was “sent.”
One time I came home, and when asked what we had done in church, I, as an elementary-age student, replied, “We sang ‘Bring the Wonderlings to Jesus.’” If you know your church music, you know the lyrics are “bring the wandering ones to Jesus.” The name I heard, however, happened to be that of one of the “pillars” of the church, and had they heard my response, I’m sure the indignation would have been evident since they believed they had a clear path to the pearly gates. Thus my parents’ gales of laughter.
In the quest to answer my own question, I found an incredible number of religions, ranging from early Druids to those that still exist today. Furthermore, many have offshoots. So much information about each religious sect exists that it is impossible to include sufficient documentation about all in a short piece like this.
Generally speaking, however, all denominations seem to agree with some version of this: Faith is something with so much force, that one who possesses it never wavers. In other words, your conviction is such that regardless of the lack of proof (and this is the crucial part), you accept your belief unconditionally. Your faith endures, even in the face of doubt.
Regardless of your religion, organized or not, faith is something you feel to your core. It’s an amazing gift to help you navigate the troubled times we face. It was such for me 22 years ago and remains so today.
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”
