My faith is like ice on a lake in winter.
I used to skate on it with confidence, carefree.
But things happened, bad things, and the ice grew thin.
Finally, one day, I fell through.
I fell into the despair beneath and thought I might drown.
Instead, I washed up on the shore, exhausted.
There, I watched the broken ice with fear and contempt.
Gradually, slowly, ice reformed over the broken places.
Not smooth like before, but jagged and scarred.
I watched and waited.
Finally, I took a hesitant step, close to shore.
Each day, I ventured farther.
The ice held me.
I am back on the ice again.
I skate cautiously, carefully avoiding the uneven, jagged places.
Gone is the confidence, replaced by hope.
Hope that the ice will hold me.
And knowledge that if I fall through I can survive.
