Another Excerpt from Upcoming Book - Chapter 8 - "My Very Long Vacation from God"
I sat in church unable to cry the day after the funeral. The church was empty, and I sat, three pews back, staring up at the 12-foot hanging crucifix and following the details of this statue with my eyes. I gazed for what seemed like hours at the thorns digging into Jesus’s skull, the drops of blood running down his calm face, the cloth sheath that only covered his genitals. I noticed the forgiveness in the eyes of this man-made sculpture. I wished I could talk to Jesus in that moment because I had so many questions to ask him. Earlier that morning my Mother asked me to go to the store and get some milk. She told me to grab five dollars from her purse. As I shuffled through the papers and such I came across the letter I wrote to Dad, unopened and forgotten. I flipped out; this was my only means of saving him last week. The letter clearly told him to...