Standing in front of an open window I try to hold back tears. A little disappointment threatens to ruin my afternoon and leave me down. Suddenly an invisible hand, soft as a baby’s skin, reaches in and brushes a tear off my face. Washing over me like a cool ocean wave, bearing the scent of many flowers, it refreshes me. My hair flies behind me as a horse’s mane when he runs free. Smiling, I try to catch that hand… if I can grasp it, just maybe I can see it, but it rushes by. So familiar is it, that all of nature waves in its presence. I can’t see it, or hold it in my hand, but still it extends its arm to me, touching my face tenderly, filling me with joy, and reminding me that I don’t have to see to believe; that’s what faith is.