I read recently that the only thing that counts is faith expressing itself through love. I paused afterward, somberly reading, re-reading, meditating, absorbing. The only thing that counts… For better or worse, it’s an exclusive statement. Under this newly found presumption, I guess it didn’t count when you lied to me and yourself for months. And I can only hope that the same rule applies when temptation calls and I perpetually submit to its plea. Maybe, then, it won’t count when I sever ties with you, I don’t expect it to be an expression wholly of love.

At least I’m sure of what does count. Like times spent perusing shops meant just for us and clandestine drives… when the paths of our minds are just as uncertain as our present situation. I’ve also surmised that planned expressions of love count. I remember the rhythmic rise and fall of our individual voices, to the same tortuous, syncopated melody. In a moment of umoja, we lit candles to betoken our souls and watched as our strong facades melted away with the candle wax, only to be replaced with vulnerable faces and promises of a reunion. Should I not forget the 11 pages you artfully crafted in a small metallic journal previously choked with cosmetic remarks? I touched the cream pages and could almost see remnants of your tears; many of joy washing away those of sadness. I remember the ice cream too, coffee, with large silver spoons. We ate to fill the silence and watched as the treat disappeared alongside the minutes, the slowly depleting container a constant reminder that soon there would be no more . Even hair can be an expression of love. I’ll always note your diligence as you two, both defined by their art, gingerly separated what was given from what was purchased. We sealed our circle with a pizza reserved for 3 and several chronicles of lives more alluring than our own. Still more instances of love come to mind. You traversed Detroit traffic for a moment with us; spent in a crowded coffee shop right before a life changing endeavor.

After all of these years, the only thing that really counts is faith expressing itself through love. I’m relieved, but somewhat nervous with a bit of remorse. And in this moment, as the suburban breeze blows through my toes, I have faith….in what, I’m still not perfectly certain. But I do know that I have felt the expression of faith through love and it’s stunning. And as I prepare for this new adventure, all I ask is for a little faith; I don’t think that’s too lofty of a request. I know I’m deserving and what’s really important is that you are too. I might have said this before (or maybe you just know)… I’m usually not much for promises. Life has taught me that even the well intended are too easily broken. But in this moment I desire to make a promise to you, a select few:

  • the first with hair as firey as her soul and another with a heart as golden as her curls
  • a third with a focus unparalleled and yet another with skin as bright as her future in education
  • one called to be extraordinary despite her present sentiments and another with a voice as beautiful as her demeanor
  • one with more work than she deserves and still another with admirable determination
  • and a final one that believes coffee unites.

I promise here and now to always have faith in you and to work endlessly to express that faith through love. Faith in your ability to lead, to educate, to save, to communicate, to rebuild, to change lives, to live remarkably. With Love that conquers pettiness and drama, that stimulates spiritually and emotionally, that speaks wisely and peacefully and that is a stronghold.

I have faith in you. I love you. And for me, for now, that’s enough.

–me