I am amazed at how much we can learn from our kids. The following is a poem my daughter wrote when she was 13. Full of so much insight for someone so young.
I lost my faith.
And no matter where I searched for it, I couldn’t find it.
I had already looked under my bed, all that was there, however, were shards.
These were not just any shards either,
but the shards of dreams,
Dreams that were shattered last night.
Twas an awful shame too.
They were nice dreams.
Not the kind that come in crinkly plastic wrapping,
Not the kind that run out of juice easily,
these were carefully crafted, and painted by hand,
they arrived in big, gorgeous, chestnut boxes.
Ah well, no dreams are invincible.
Perhaps I’ll rebuild them… but then again, new dreams could be nice.
I need to get back in the game!
I’m looking for my faith!
I went downstairs,
The stairs a creaky, creepy, and old.
They have allot of scuffs, scares, and little chips, but all the best things do.
Once downstairs I opened up the pantry.
In there was my sense of humor, ballroom dancing with my sense of timing.
I was wondering where they went.
I shut the door, not in the mood to try and wrangle them back inside me.
I walked into the living room.
Upturning every couch cushion, and searching under every corner of rug.
No faith anywhere.
I dug through the soggy wetness of the dogs bowl,
I hope the dog didn’t eat it by mistake!
I went out to the yard, digging up most of it.
Only finding disappointment in the form of repulsive straggly bits of worms.
Then, as a last, pathetic, attempt I look way down, deep, deep, deep, within myself.
And realized that my faith had never left me after all.
I had just forgotten where I put it.