As a young girl, I grew up in the church. There was bible school, then bible study, then prayer time, then service, the list goes on. And, as a young girl, I did enjoy coming to church, I enjoyed the service, and I enjoyed the young, or old, but spiritually young, people of God, they made me feel happy. But, then high school came, and I felt myself falling away from God, I’d skip church on Friday nights and Sundays because “I had to catch up on school work” or whatever lie I could use at the time. I wish I would have stayed stronger in the word. When I was in grade 10 my father passed away from cancer, it wasn’t anything anybody expected, it was sudden and nobody knew how to react, we had prayer, and a beautiful service, viewing, funeral. But, I felt as if God had betrayed me, I felt disowned by him, as I did grow up in the church I tried to tell myself these things happen for a reason, and this is the work of the devil, but I couldn’t help but be mad at God, Why did he have to take my dad away? Why did he have to brake my family? My dad was everything to us and now he’s gone, I was, and still am, hurt. This, eventually, tore me further from the church, I couldn’t bare for them to see me and pray for me to get “Better”, my dad was not coming back and they couldn’t do anything about that. One night, I was so heartbroken, that I went to the bible and was going to rip the pages out, don’t worry I couldn’t bring myself to do it, instead I sat and cried begging God for some type of explanation as to why he had to take my dad, I remember crying so hard, I lost my voice the next day, but I cried myself to sleep. And then I had a dream, I had a dream of my dad sleeping on a gigantic ball of warmth, he looked happy and I could tell he was because he was snoring, he rolled over and just slept, I tried to wake him up, but he was peaceful, when I woke the next day I didn’t understand what it meant, so I went to my pastor, and she told me, she reminded me of the suffering and pain my dad had been going through before his death, how he was so cold, and my dad hated the cold, how he was skinny, and his hair uncut, how unhappy he was, then she told me how in my dream he was happy, well kept, fat with health, but most of all, warm. From then I could only ask God for forgiveness but I felt as if he had already forgiven me way before he knew my name. I am now back to going to church as often as possible, and I talk to God whenever I can, and I often I ask him to tell my dad hi, I love him, and to stay nice and warm.