fragment of a thought: what is the texture of faith?

 The texture of Job’s faith

 was sometimes fine, joyful, breathless…lace of a wedding veil

sometimes soft & grateful, amazed - the blanket wrapping his newborn daughter

sometimes plain and sturdy denim, down to business, every morning rising early to sacrifice on behalf of his family.

sometimes sackcloth, rough burlap, dirt clinging to coarse threads, pain in every fold. texture of the curse. 

at the end, though, shining white, whiter than snow. Resurrection cloth. so perfect he needed a transformed body just to feel it...

the texture of my faith? Gaps like a fishing net: doubt, certainty, doubt, certainty...barely enough cohesion to catch a fish.

but faith’s fabric doesn’t tear.