Something to Believe In

I watch them through the window, all blindly bowing down. They trace a cross across their chests and look up at the ceiling, toward the sky and the heavens, believing God is up there. Somewhere. I can't help but wonder though... If there were a God, then why would he (presuming it is a he) let such awful things happen? Whole populations dying? People told to hide who they are. People told it's wrong. Turn it off! It's just like a light switch, they say, just turn it off. As if it's so easy.

But, why not turn it off when leaving it on opens you up to so much ridicule and just pure hatred? Because, why should I have to? I am what I am. Why should I have to change that just to please someone else? There will be people out there, somewhere, there will be people out there who can see my true colours, the real me shine through. Not just see it, but appreciate it. Accept it. Like it even. They'll be out there somewhere. I just have to find them. Find my tribe.  

Watching from a nearby, partially concealed bush, I watch as the churchgoers emerge following the conclusion of the service, dressed to the nines in their Sunday best, smiling from ear to ear, their skin glowing and eyes glittering with hope. A chilly gust of wind washes over them, causing me to shiver in my cold, shady cover, but it doesn't seem to phase them in the slightest. The wind washing over them seems to blow away the troubles with which they walked in, ensuring they're not collected on the way out. Instead, they are left with a refreshing glimmer of hope for a latter day.

So maybe there is something there? Something good about this odd organised group who blindly follow their leader, who in turn teaches from a book of stories and passages. That's why they call it faith I guess. To believe when there is no tangible evidence.

I used to be one of them once, going to Church each week, dressed in my best formal clothes. But I turned my back when they started telling people to turn parts of themselves 'off'. When they told them to deny who they are, taught them to be fearful and ashamed of who they are. How could I be part of something that condones that? But now, I wonder, is there something else to it? Something good?

"You don't really believe it's all true, do you?" asked Toni when I meet her at a café later that afternoon. "That someone killed their own brother? That the world was flooded in an attempt to rid the world of evil?"
I shake my head slowly, staring at my feet and feeling rather stupid.
"They talk in metaphors. They're symbols," she says, "like rainbows signifying hope."
"And pride," I say, a small smile cracking my lips.
"Yes," says Toni. "Like rainbows colouring the world, and especially our community with hope and pride, and with them, happiness and joy."

She reaches across the table, taking my hand in hers and squeezing gently. "Just because you have faith doesn't mean you have to believe everything. Take the parts that you like, and leave the rest. It wouldn't be right to try and shed parts of yourself because they don't fit the rigid mould created by some sheltered old fart thousands of years ago. Everyone is different. Everyone is unique. No one should get to dictate you like that. So don't let them. Be who you are. Be you."
"Thanks Toni." I squeeze her hand lightly in return.
"But if the thought that there are angels watching over you, or a heaven that you go to when you pass on... If believing those things gives you the strength, the will to survive and go on with this crazy, wild ride called life, then by golly, believe with all your might," she says.

"Don't let anyone stop you." I can hear her voice like a whisper in my ear, almost feeling the warm breath created by her words tickle my ear. And now, I look up at the sky above, almost cloudless, but for a few big white puffs floating along the bright blue expanse and her face appears like a hollow silhouette against the backdrop of one of the clouds and she smiles as our eyes meet. I smile back at her, my angel. "I promise," I whisper under my breath, hoping she'll hear me somewhere. "I promise that I'll keep being. That I'll keep believing. I promise."