buttercup

When I was younger, I used to lie awake at night and feel as if I could touch eternity. I would think about Hell, and how it would go on forever and ever and never let up. It horrified me and kept me awake and I would ask God to forgive my sins over and over. But if I had to keep asking, maybe I didn't really believe, and if I didn't believe strongly enough, I would be going to Hell anyway. I tried to have the faith of a child, like my Sunday School teacher said I should—unquestioning and unwavering. Everyone said it was harder for smart people to believe in salvation because they had to question everything. I was smart, and I questioned things, even though I never told anybody that I didn't know if their answers were right. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept on singing in the choir and teaching younger kids about Jesus. And at night, I would stare at the ceiling that I couldn't see and imagine that I was being burned alive and I would burn and burn and never die.

That is why I will not be taking my daughter to your church. I know it would make you happy, but I want her to be able to decide what she believes, so that she can believe it with all her heart. Religion is not a family tradition that needs to be passed down—it's a personal belief.

I still feel sometimes that I know what eternity is. It happens when I lie awake on Saturday mornings in bed feeling warm and alive with possibilities. I drive down the back roads on the way home, and I see the leaves changing and the sun setting, and I wish that I could see them forever, and I feel how small my life is within this universe.

I wish I could say I never lie awake thinking about Hell anymore, that I don't believe in it. But I still do now and then, and it kept me awake last night, and I wish I could either forget about it or be a devout believer again, but neither path seems to be mine. I guess we all have our scars.