But before I began venturing out into the real world where I could make friends (and probably some enemies), I had to finish high school, turn eighteen, and then get my driver's license. I was excited to graduate high school, but I was not at all excited about driving. Driving scared me just as much as forcing myself to check out new places to befriend strangers on my own. After all, both of those are very social activities. 

I don't remember too much of anything specific happening, at least, that has much to do with my faith in God until my eighteenth birthday. When I finally reached my eighteenth year of life, I had a massive celebration with my grandparents and great uncle Courtney up in Greeley. On the way to Greeley that morning, my grandpa Lyle rambled on about how blessed I was to have reached the ripe old age of eighteen!

"I don't think you realize just how profound this is, Maya." my grandpa said while I just sort of shrugged my shoulders as he talked, "You were not supposed to make it this far. Every doctor and scientist I talked to while you were just a little baby in the hospital, told me there was no way you'd make it to adulthood. They told me and your parents, that the oldest age you had just a slight chance of reaching was sixteen years old. Yet, here you are, eighteen years old, extremely healthy and able! God healed you! He cured you! Your heart valve is proof that God exists!"

For some reason, the weight of his words failed to hit me. I'd heard very similar things come from a lot of people throughout the course of my life. It was old news to me.

While my grandpa was in the middle of his speech, I suddenly piped up, using a much more serious tone of voice than I intended, "Are you sure all of this was God's doing, and not just some weird abnormalities? I mean, there's always gonna be exceptions to the rules and crazy coincidences. I kind of struggle to understand how one could attribute all of these things to a God, if it's possible the human mind is just really good at connecting the dots even if there are no dots to connect, and freaks of nature do exist."

My grandpa sat in silence for a little bit, digesting what I just threw out at him, practically out of the blue. I kind of wished I could take back what I just said, or kept it to myself, but something just compelled me to blurt out my thoughts at that very moment. 

After a few more excruciating seconds of silence, my grandpa continued, "If you look back through the course of your life, there are just too many 'coincidences' that happen to be considered 'coincidences'. Atheists like to call miracles 'abnormalities' or 'coincidences', even if it is obvious those 'coincidences' are not just merely 'coincidences'. Take the last couple years of your schooling, for example. You just happened to end up in a home school program that fit perfectly with your current situation, and you just happened to end up with a teacher who just happened to be everything you could've asked for as far as a teacher goes, and you just happened to pass high school with a beautiful report card."

He paused for a bit to let me digest what he said, and then my grandpa continued. 

"Also, you just happened to come across life-saving phages. You just happened to have a pulse-ox of a hundred percent at the ER when you were supposed to be admitted that night, and then pumped full of antibiotics for two weeks that likely wouldn't have killed your infection, but would've likely killed you. You just happen to have a perfect lung function. You just happened to live past the age of sixteen. You just happened to be the only person who has ever been cured of Pulmonary Atresia."

Again, my grandpa paused to let his words sink in. 

"Are you beginning to realize how flawed the atheistic worldview is?"

My grandpa wasn't getting frustrated with me, but he was trying to get me to see the flaws in my logic. And, I realized, rather reluctantly, that he was right. Those major events in my life weren't just products of blind chance. They were answered prayers. I didn't pray all that often, especially when I was a teen. But, when I did, it appeared that God did, in fact, answer my prayers, especially when I was begging to be saved from the jaws of death, or from a fate worse than death. After that realization, I decided to change the subject. That hit a little too close to home. No longer could I attribute miracles as being exceptions to the rules. Nor could I just write off answers to my most heartfelt prayers as mere coincidences. There were just too many coincidences for them to actually be coincidences. 

I tried to forget that little epiphany I had while in the car on the way to Greeley, and for a month or so, I did forget it. But, it wasn't long before it all came flooding back to me. However, I refused to accept that I wasn't just a product of blind, dumb chance. I didn't care how much I had to deny in order to deny the existence of God. That realization that my life, and the rest of the world, was just too finely tuned for there to not be an intelligent Being behind it all honestly scared me. And, when I get scared, my first instinct is to run. But, if I cannot run or hide, my next best bet is to turn hostile and fight back. 

Clearly, for my whole life, God had been pursuing me. In a way, I had been pursuing Him too. However, I was doing everything in my power to keep a safe distance, while still relentlessly challenging and criticizing God. But, suddenly, I was out of objections and questions designed to rip the idea of God apart. I could no longer defend atheism. It was as unbelievable to me as Santa or the Easter Bunny. Yet, I so desperately wanted to cling to a worldview where, in the end, nothing mattered. I so desperately wanted to cling to a worldview where I could look back at my life when I was on my death bed and declare, "I did that", instead of admitting that I hadn't actually done much of anything, but God did. I so desperately wanted to cling to a worldview where I didn't have to worry about living forever, or worry about my relatives living forever. But, that worldview had just been obliterated. 

The problem of suffering was no longer something I could use against God, since it was clear God used my suffering for my greater good. The problem of morality was no longer something I could use against God, because it was clear that humans were the depraved ones, not God. The problem of evil was also not a problem for God, but was a problem for humanity. God gave us all we needed to create a perfect world, but we fucked it all up, and will continue to fuck it all up. Modern science was no longer something I could use against God, because it was clear that modern science was perfectly compatible with Christianity, no matter what the creationists or fundamentalists or new atheists claimed. There was not a single passage in the bible that contradicted or disproved another passage in the bible, when it was read in the proper context of course. 

God had me cornered, but I was not yet ready to surrender myself to Him. So, I did what many people in my situation would do. I prayed that He would let me go and leave me alone for life. I prayed that He would stop trying to get a hold of me, and to just let me be. I needed some time to myself. I needed to be completely left alone. That meant no more miracles. No more help. No more hints. No more protection. I wanted so badly to cling to atheism, that I would much rather face the uncertainties of life completely alone and unprotected, than surrender myself to God. 

One night, I had a very vivid dream where I was viewing things from the perspective of a fly on the wall. There was a cloudless, blue sky above, and just flat, white sand below. There weren't any other features. It just just blue skies and flat, white dirt forever. But, in the middle of that desolate place, there was a round pen containing a red roan horse and an old cowboy. The horse was obviously wild, just based on its behavior. However, it was well kept, as if someone had been keeping it fed, sheltered, and properly maintained. It didn't have a wild, matted mane, rough hooves, or a slim figure like what a truly wild horse has. It looked civilized, but it clearly did not want to be anywhere near the cowboy, and was doing everything it could to escape the pen that contained it.

For a few minutes, I just watched how that horse reacted to the cowboy, who was just standing completely still on the other side of the pen, barely even breathing. The horse was on the opposite side of the pen from the cowboy, eyes wide, tail high, nostrils flared, ears moving in all directions, pacing back and fourth, throwing itself against the metal bars that contained it, and even trying to rear up and throw itself over the round pen. But the pen was just too tall and strong for the horse to break out of it. The horse only stopped for a second at a time to look at the cowboy, before trying to escape the round pen again.

It was hard to watch. For some reason, I felt tremendously emotionally connected to that horse. I could feel its terror, frustration, exhaustion, anger, and discouragement. I could almost feel the physical pain that horse endured each time it rammed itself against the rusty railings or tried to throw itself over the pen, resulting in it falling over backwards and slamming onto the hard, white ground on its back. That horse was in hell, and it knew it.

Eventually, the horse seemed to tire itself out. It was breathing heavier than ever and frothing at the mouth. However, it was still terrified and ready to bolt at any minute. It stood stock still, facing the cowboy, watching to make sure he didn't make a noise or move a muscle. The cowboy made no sudden movements, but he did slowly make his way to the gate of the round pen, and gently placed his hand on the rusty slide bolt that held the gate closed. 

"I've taken care of you for a long time." the old cowboy slowly spoke, in a deep, low voice, "I've made sure you had everything you needed. I've protected you, both from threats that you were aware of, and threats you weren't. I've never left you without food, water, or proper care. I've never let you endure storms, cross valleys, or wander through territories teeming with predators alone or unprotected. I've spent years and years trying to gain your trust so I can put my reins on you and lead you through the rest of life. Yet, you clearly never trusted me or liked me. You've been running from me ever since day one."

The cowboy pushed down on the slide bolt, "So, I'm going to let you go now. I won't pursue you anymore. You can go on without me. However, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

With that, he pulled the slide bolt out of its socket, swung the gate open, and moved away from the gate. Almost as soon as the gate swung fully open, that red roan charged out of the round pen, and galloped away into the barren abyss without hesitation.