I have, lately, been trying to figure out the logistics of being angry at God.
I read an article in a Cleveland, Ohio newspaper about Patrick's death, and in the comments section, people kept talking about how his family's deep and abiding faith would carry them through. Frankly speaking, that sounds like some bullshit that somebody would only say if they hadn't ever lost a son, a brother, a close friend. Like my friend Carissa, I'm not okay with dismissing this as a matter of God's will.
Dear Laura,
I received your voicemail last Sunday, and you may rest assured that my heart was both appropriately warmed by your greeting, and saddened by the reality that by the time I got the message, I was already home in Michigan. I imagine that by now you might be curious about my continued silence. I haven’t extended the friendly [...]
As I prepare to leave for school in 12 days, it is my hope that you can forgive my errors, and that we may look back on our relationship in a positive light.
Historically speaking, I have considered you both a friend and a confidant. For that I am grateful. But now, I step forward onto a limb whose strength I am uncertain of.