What does it take to
make us believe? This is a question I ponder on many levels, in many areas
of my life. What makes us believe something we read or see or hear? Why are we
skeptical of one statement and not another? Is it a gut thing? Or a heart
thing? I think maybe it’s a trust thing.
I need to trust the source from which the information comes.
I don’t trust Fox News, pretty much any politician, the check-out clerk at
Wal-Mart, or the passionate volunteer on the phone. I don’t trust the crazy
right-wing driven blogs or the looney-tunes left-wing e-newsletter. In fact,
most times I don’t trust information I’m given until I’ve poked and prodded and
tested it myself.
We have an electric fence in our horse pasture. I tell all
the kids who visit that it will shock them, but there are always those who must
find out first hand.I remember touching fences myself when I was a child. I’d
lay a long piece of grass to the wire and listen close. I’d hear that little
zzzzpt and know that, yup, it’s hot.
Eight years ago, when my youngest child developed an
autoimmune disorder seemingly out of the blue, my world shifted. My heart
cracked wide open and my beliefs about what was safe and good and healthy all
became suspect. Life seemed more fragile. Almost overnight I saw the world and
our food supply in a completely new way. I didn’t trust anything that came in a
package or out a drive-thru window. My motivation grew out of a desperation and
pain that was all new to me. I would do anything to heal my child. I entertained
all manner of wacko experts and obscure studies and stifled my skeptical soul.
But sometimes the information I gathered made sense.