Psalm for the Doubters

Blessed are those who aren't sure. Blessed are those who came to church for the singing, stayed for the quiet, and left without settling the question. Blessed are the ones who pray the way you'd call a number you're not sure is still in service— half-expecting the tone, half-hoping for the voice. Blessed is the woman lighting candles for a saint she can't remember, because the flame is real and the dark is real and the space between them is as close to holy as she needs today. Blessed are those who lost their faith the way you lose a set of keys— not all at once but gradually, checking pockets, retracing steps, until one day you simply get the locks changed and move on. Blessed are those who move on and still, sometimes, on a Tuesday, feel the old key turning in a door they thought they'd closed for good.