A decade ago I started down a path with a single question, does God really care? About me, He care about me? I wasn't asking about why the world is such a messed up place, my questions had nothing to do with the injustices in the world, starving children, wars or diseases, that came later, much later. My angst was very personal, does God care about me? If He does indeed care, why did He allow all the bad shit in my life to happen? What kind of sick game is He playing at? How could He allow me to be hurt in the various ways I was? And why did he appear deaf and dumb to my pleas and my existence. Where is this love that I faithfully told others about? This love that was supposed to sustain me? I began to think He didn't care, for a Being so powerful, He didn't offer much help. And I really wasn't asking for a lot, I was not looking for miracles, just a sign that He cared, could He maybe show Himself in a way I couldn't miss? It was and is impossible to...