Because you walk on water, your footprints are invisible… (Luci Shaw)
For an ephemeral moment, everything seems to be coming together in any way that life can ever be said to be coming together, which is to say that things are becoming less and less uncertain. And for a moment, there is a small but reassuring peace that in some small way seems to pass understanding. Not that understanding, at this point, even seems relevant. Anything for a moment of peace. For a breath. A sigh. For the faintly discernible fingerprint of God.
A plan falls through. The bottom falls out. And what now? What next? Questions that don’t have answers that are in any way sufficient as doubt and skepticism bleed into the space left by fleeting reprieve.
Maybe the fingerprints of God are far too vast to be seen from our miniscule vantage. Fingerprints like fault lines, scoring and underscoring the ground on which we try to stand.
We are, only with underlying trepidation, intrepid. And in a moment of honesty, I come close to admitting I knew it was wrong the whole time.
Still, we wait in anticipation, in hope, in prayer. For our eyes to become accustomed to the dark, for a path to emerge, a path that is perhaps the ridge of the tip of the finger of God.