“Our great war is a spiritual one.”

This seems to be true. At least for me.
Why? I’ve never really thought about it. Until now.

My parents always insisted on going to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I never understood this considering that they never went any other time. But to miss Christmas Eve mass was like, well… a sin to them.

I believed, until I was ten that is. And even then I still believed, just not that He was loving and caring. It was hard to believe that after I saw the shunt in my brother’s side to drain the fluid that God put there. It looked mechanical and cruel sewn into his skin. It made God seem awfully cruel. After that it was just easier to believe that there was no God rather than a cruel God. Random and chaotic cruelty was easier to swallow than planned cruelty.

During the years I used drugs God became nothing more than a whisper…

When I started to get clean it was easier to place my faith in physical things than to blindly believe in someone I previously believed to be cruel. First it was women. Soon to be replaced by the ever-changing technology that rules our world. But technology seems ironic to me… The more time and energy I invest in it, the shallower it becomes…

It took me a long time to separate faith from religion… To see God once again as loving and caring… What changed? Time. Time changed me. My brother lived twice as long with his disease opposed to everyone else who ever had it.

It was the countless smiles he brought over the years. He never submitted to despair despite the pain he was in…

It never should have been about the shunt, it should have been about the smiles. It took me time to realize that.

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