Dear God

Dear God:

I am so sorry I have blasphemed your name. I am not copping out, dear lord. I cannot imagine how I could have been so uncaring, so rebellious and just plain mean. You Lord, understand me. You are the one who sent your only son to die for my sins or so they say. I used to think you had a warped sense of doing things. I thought I could do a better job if I had your power! I'm sorry lord; but you gave me this brain and sometimes it just gets carried away. At least you know it works! If I did not believe you loved me and had forgiven me; I would not feel worthy or have the faith to continue in your crazy, empty, cold, world.

I must say, this is a little confusing, but I will address you as Jesus Christ. Did you ever question your dad when you were nailed to that cross? I'll bet you wanted to shout and say, "Alright, you heathens, I'll show you who I AM". And pow, take that and that. But no, you had a job to do and you did it very well because you have me believing in you. That is not an easy task.

After you called my son Mark home, I thought I would die of a broken heart; but you, Dear God showed me the way. I know you exist and I give you this carcass to rebuild; what's left of it anyway.

Thanks, J. C., for loving my son more than I do.