Lessons in Faith

What I’ve learned from separating faith from God

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It’s been a long time since I had a relationship with religion.

I grew up fearing God, because of a few unique circumstances.

First, my great aunt was a nun.

Second, my father was raised very Catholic and god-fearing, and it trickled into my bloodstream at an early age.

Third, once, when I was seven, I said, “God, I’d give absolutely anything if I could have an American Girl Doll bed like the the one Maribeth’s dad made for her.” I didn’t tell her, or her dad, I was hoping for one. One night, the phone rang in the middle of the night and my grandmother told my father his dad had died suddenly. The next morning, unannounced, Maribeth’s father showed up with a bed he’d made me. “I knew Lauren had American Girls, and I thought she might like this. I made one for Maribeth, too.”

That really happened. And so I, at 7, believed I had killed my grandfather, and I feared God. I never again wished for something selfish. On birthday candles, on shooting stars, on pennies tossed into a pool of water at the mall.

I still don’t wish for selfish things, so say what you will about that. But nevertheless, I began to lose my grip on the concept of God by the time I was a teenager. Through deaths and…