Each time I think I have surrendered, l learn again I have no idea what it means.
My faith as a weapon as much as a welcome mat, I used to say. I haven't said it in a while, perhaps because I feel bloodied in the battle and am weary from asking, seeking, hoping.
But what is hope if it is not unseen?
And so, I go back, perpetually. To drink again. To learn what this faithfulness thing means, because it's the easiest and hardest thing all at the same time. To keep my hope alive.