When I was small, we went to church (Church of Christ denomination) regularly until I was about 7 or 8. For some reason, we just stopped going about then. I'm not sure why, but we did. My father didn't want to go any more, so that was reason enough.

One of the most consistent memories I have of church is Sunday School, and the constant theme of how God made everything. He makes the flowers, He makes it rain, He made me, etc. To my young mind, God was the one pulling all of the levers and strings in the world, making everything happen.

So how does a mind that naive reconcile these truths he learned in Sunday School with the beatings, the eventual sexual abuse, the emotional isolation? I remember wondering why God was making these things happen to me. Why was I such a bad child that it caused God to hate me so much? Why was He rejecting me like this?

I never learned about the concept of the Trinity at that young of an age, but I remember thinking that Jesus was pretty cool because He was always nice to everyone. I remember my little white Bible with the picture of Him in the front of it, blonde hair, blue eyes, holding a little lost lamb. It was God that made things happen though.

I finally made my peace with God when I was 23. I had grown out of the anger at Him for all the trash of what I had called life up to that point.

I don't know what point I'm trying to make with all this, it's just something I've been thinking on for a while, remembering old feelings from all those years ago and what it felt like.