I’ve been riveted to this thread and its precursor. Thank you, W.

7/W “I knew then that doubt was something that came with faith. Faith meant you were going to take the risk.”

I have always believed in God. There have been many times when my life was reduced to its core, and that belief sustained me. Drifting on a morphine IV where nothing but God and pain were certain; struggling to save my daughter’s life and watching her turn blue; at the veil making the decision whether to fight to breathe through the blood or relax and follow the light; shoving a pistol between my belly and a very mean man’s belly and telling him to back off… God has been my constant. The sense that I have that He exists is what carries me. Perhaps it is self-deception — doubt and I are well-acquainted, but I have accepted that my faith in the essential need for goodness will galvanize me when push comes to shove. Faith means I *can* take the risk, I will step forward and confront evil, that God is on my side. In my nightmares I freeze, I can’t scream or move, but in real life I have always been able to dig deep and tap into the river and keep pushing, clear the airways or hit harder or whatever else is necessary to that moment, and I feel a driving certainty that is stronger than my fear.

Need to go baste the turkey again and get some pies ready to bake.