It’s the word God keeps telling me these weeks. I can’t get away from it. It’s the word written on a block plaque sitting on my classroom window sill. A friend gave me the plaque without knowing that I need it more than any other word right now. I face it every day, sitting in front of my students. Between shoulders and above bobbing heads and beside the crepe-paper flowers in the vase: BELIEVE.
For all that is impossible: believe.
Why do we need to say ‘would’ in this sentence?
For every unwhispered dream: believe.
In grammar, it’s called a conditional.
Buds appear on trees, flowers from seeds: believe.
Could we try a Business English lesson next week?
For all that is impossible: believe.
Can we play Bingo now? Pleeeeease?
For healing for weeping wounds and aches: believe.
The word weaves itself through the minutes of my hours. Believe. For myself and those I love. For my students and their stories. Believe.
I say I believe His words, but my heart holds back, questioning, giving rationales, fearing.
He is patient in His convincing. That, if nothing else, tells me He is worthy of my belief. Can love morph into believing? Then belief will become more than cerebral assent, but firm, glad, heart-deep confidence.
As April’s warming soil births tulips and daffodils, my soul is slowly warming to believe.
Tis a Gift to Receive 
Beautiful, Anita!
Reading this is like a drink of cold lemonade on a humid day.
Anita- you have an empty blog of the same name- right??
Now to post seperately about your blog post:
Of late the concept of belief has been one I have been pondering over- namely my lack of belief, my ability to doubt.I am like that man who cried “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief”.He believed but also struggled with his belief and yet, Jesus cured his son.