Mustard Seed Faith

They say if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move a mountain.

But they don’t say what to do when your faith that was the size of a mountain has turned into a mustard seed.

And some days you grip that little seed in your tightly clenched fist, desperate to keep it safe, afraid you’ll never find it again if it drops to the floor.

But other days you think about what it might feel like to smash it under your heel, wiggling your foot back and forth satisfyingly, not bothering to sweep up.

On more hopeful mornings, you can picture it resting in cupped hands before you blow it like a dandelion gently into the wind,

trusting the Mystery to float it back when you’re ready.

Cultivating, in the meantime, the soil of your soul. Weeding out toxic theology, digging down to the roots, the word --

making sure your heart is level, the channels deep with truth.

They say if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can move a mountain.

But I just want my mustard seed faith to move me.