Because faith is a hand with a missing finger, try to ask very little of her, only to show up from time to time. And in return, consider her dilemma.
Faith has no name. She is not a possession or an object. She is unfaithful even to herself.
Faith hides under the house with the feral cats; she will eat refuse; she refuses to sit in a chair. She wears a calamity of weighty assumptions. Her dress may be dowdy or she may show up naked and starving. She will ask for coin you do not have. She is often downright unreasonable.
And yet, when you cry out in pain she is near. This is when you sense her slight motion, hazy and just out of view.