When the scaffolding of belief collapsed, I didn’t find a hollow void where faith used to be.
I found stillness.
I found an openness I’d never had space for before—the kind of space where questions could echo instead of getting silenced. The kind of space where I could hear myself think, and maybe even hear something greater than myself whispering back.
That whisper didn’t sound like doctrine. It didn’t come with ultimatums or fine print. It felt like presence.
And it was enough.
That’s not to say everything makes sense now—it doesn’t. But I’ve stopped demanding that it does. I still ask big questions. I still pray, even if I’m not sure who’s listening. I still find glimpses of the divine in music, in kindness, in serendipity, and yes, in the woods.
If I could go back and tell my younger self something, I’d say: “You don’t have to be so certain. You’re allowed to wonder. You’re allowed to change. You’re allowed to grow out of the boxes you were handed.”
And maybe that’s faith: not the absence of doubt, but the courage to keep walking.
✦
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Part 6 drops next Friday.