I always feel funny saying "life is hard." I've never been a fan of stating the obvious. But my recent pain and vulnerability has left me with only those words to utter. They're the only words I could use to describe the right-now moment I'm experiencing. 

Life is flippin' hard. 

Right now.  

Because despite how I feel and what I'm experiencing, I know there's more. I know there's a future. And I know there's greater brewing on the other side of this grief. 

Faith taught me that. 

Because there's always faith. There's always hope. And there's always your ability to muster it all up. The burning desire to want to believe there's more for you. The choice between contentment and trust, or sadness and dysfunction. The decision to choose faith in the midst of the heartache, depression and pain. 

When you feel like everything's deceived you, that God doesn't care about you, and that life is crumbling before your eyes - despite all you'vedone to keep it together - there's faith. There's the feeling in the pit of your stomach telling you there's more. There's the voice whispering in your ear that better is approaching. There's your memory reminding you of your past and how, much like then, this too shall pass. 

Faith is the only thing that'll keep you wanting to wake up. It's the only thing you have that reaffirms God's promises over your life. It's the only thing that allows the sun to shine through your cloudiest day. Faith is the only reminder you have, that the very thing you're hoping for is yours, despite its current absence. Faith pulls you up. Faith keeps you standing. 

On the other side of wit's end, there's faith. Roaring from the mountaintops waiting for you to look up. Waiting for you to climb to the top to experience the hope that's awaiting. There's faith tapping on your window while you sleep, wanting you to welcome it inside your home and your spirit. There's faith greeting you in the passenger seat of your sedan. There's faith sitting in the waiting area of your office. There's faith at the hair salon, at your parent's house and at the bottom of the rum and coke you decided to drink to wash down the pain; to massage the frog in your throat down to the pit of your stomach where more faith lies. There's faith waiting for you at home, at work, outside. Faith waiting for you in church, at dance practice and in your favorite book. Faith waiting for you in the midst of everything you're going through. Faith attempting to peak out from behind the shadows of sadness. 

There's faith that you have the decision to pick up and use. There's hope that you have the choice to tap into. There's promise that you have the option to recall. Go with that. Feel that. Tap into that. Because when you have absolutely nothing left, it's your faith that will sustain you. 

Signed,  
a girl with faith.