Daddy, I'm going to pray this time. I know before I said they weren't real prayers, they were only letters ... but this one feels like a prayer to me. It's full of longing and hopes and dreams, and above all it's full of emotion, even sadness. Yes, Daddy, this is a prayer.
I want you to know that I'm looking for you. I can't find you most of the time, which hurts, but I was reminded of how I know my beliefs because a friend asked me how you knew you believed something. I said, "If you're willing to fight for it, to defend it." And that's true. Whenever someone insults you I'm always there, trying to prove them wrong.
The thing is, I don't feel forgiven. I'm teaching my agnostic friends that you forgive them everything and they only have to ask for you to free them from their misery, etc etc etc. But it doesn't feel like that! Every day I feel guiltier and guiltier. I used to be so sure that I was going to heaven. Now I don't even know if I believe in it at all.
Daddy, please. I want to do so much, and I think I could go so far. But I need you to help me. Perhaps you already are, but I can't feel your hand in mine, and I can't see your face above mine. I can't feel the weight receding from my shoulders as they struggle to support me: I'm on the edge of the cliff, trying to climb back up ... and I can't do it alone.
There's so much I could do. There's so much I want to do. Help me not to give up.