on signs. and learning to have faith.

i take it as a sign that while walking down washington yesterday, out of nowhere, i heard my great aunt hope's voice in my head. 

if ever a person was born with the most fitting name it is this petite red-headed-debbie-reynolds-twin-of-a-woman.

put it in God's hands now.  

she has said this to me so many times over the years. and of course i heard them in that moment because i needed to hear them, on my way to do something important. i thought of the softness of those words, how her voice has sounded every time she's said them to me.

this tiny, perfect prayer gave me the lift i needed. it carried me through my meeting, through my day.

i struggle sometimes with prayer-the feeling that i'm not doing it right. it. and i go back and forth between faith feeling hard and then moments of grace where things feel light and i do feel like i'm getting it. it. 

but i've learned that frantically searching for anything, especially a sign, is the fastest way to ensure that you won't find it. i'm learning that i can't always look, look, look for things to the point of exhaustion. sometimes i have to stop, wait, and pray i'll get the sign i need. i pray that i'll be open to receiving it.

this is faith.

i love the stillness i feel at church. when i studied in florence i went to mass by myself. i didn't care that i didn't speak italian and i didn't care that i was there alone. fitting in is not always the most important part of the things we do, finding a way to just be is. i woke early and ate breakfast on our terrace. i walked the cobblestone streets, navy blue pashmina in hand. i sat in that pew, closed my eyes, and trained myself to be still. i trained myself to feel everything. i felt myself change. i let myself change.

fear and faith and hope and grace and finding ways to feel and accept and return and not fear them. and somehow finding patience in all of them. 

this morning i took myself for a long walk after leaving the gym. i found myself on a warm street littered with leaves, surrounded by change. i could feel it. it's not just the seasons; i feel close to so many things. a cloeseness that makes my body ache and before i would simply bounce back and forth between wanting these new things and pushing them away out of fear. 

i'm no longer bouncing. i'm still. i'm ready.

the universe gives us signs at every turn. some are big and screaming and others are whispers.

this is life. and it requires change and movement. and it's hard. the learning part never stops. it takes work. these things will happen.

this is faith.