While I am not worried that Christianity will cease to exist one day, I do worry that too many people are leaving the faith over frankly minor problems with it. Too often, kids in Sunday school who "ask too many questions", are punished and told they're being tempted by the devil, rather than being told, "That's a very good question," and referred to those who may have an answer for them. I know it really sucks to be that curious kid, because I was that kid. Well, I honestly didn't attend Sunday school very often because I was too afraid of the other kids. But for 10th grade, I did attend a very small private Christian school. 

I was only at that school for one year because I knew I'd made a huge mistake when I first began to attending it. Why did I attend a tiny private school in the first place? Well, my health was taking a nose-dive, and Mom and I decided a small school environment would limit the number of germs I was exposed to, and make it easier for me to individualize my work in case I got sick and needed to work from home. If I wasn't getting so sick, I would've opted to try attending a much larger school, such as Columbine High School or Dakota Ridge High School, both of which were both very close to where I lived at the time. 

Before going to that tiny Christian school, I had attended an all-girls athletic school in downtown Denver for several years. The empowering, progressive culture at that girls school was very, very different from the quiet, conservative culture at my private Christian school. Needless to say, I was severely culture-shocked when I started going to a school that constantly condemned the "demonically liberal" (whatever that meant), secular culture of the city, and proudly taught us Young Earth Creationism and abstinence-only in science class. It actually hurt me very badly. It made me question everything I thought I believed. Ironically, I lost my faith for good (at least, I thought so) at that backwards Christian school. God was dead. The conservative church killed Him. 

In hindsight, I am strangely grateful for that major kick in the stomach. Before, I must admit I had a very shaky view of Christianity, science, politics, and other stuff like that. I didn't really have any firm beliefs, and just sort of parroted what other people told me was "right". But, that Christian school seems to have been God's way of ripping the rug out from under me and commanding me to really start getting my shit together. I also sort of see it as a precursor to things to come, such as the fact that Cystic Fibrosis will no longer be a crippling disease thanks to near-future science. I no longer could live comfortably naive and clueless, as I wouldn't be dead in ten years like I thought I would be at the time. 

Of course, at the time, I did not have any idea what the future actually held for me. And, I was deeply, deeply terrified. I knew my death was coming for me at mach-speed like an F-16. At least, it was back then. My lungs were the perfect breeding ground for every flesh-eating bacteria and fungus in existence, and I was so weak that a minor cold kept me at home for a week, unable to keep anything down except chicken soup and kombucha. But, I also knew my life was way too short to be spent attending school at a place I couldn't stand. So, after 10th grade, I began school at a secular high school made up of about 300 students. 

Unfortunately, that school had mold and Pseudomonas in the vents, which only sped up the process of dying for me. I was forced to take eight weeks off to get better the first time, turning to a very risky treatment called phage therapy when antibiotics did nothing but piss off the infections in my lungs. After being away for eight weeks, I managed to go back to  school again for about a month, only to get my ass whooped by the same infections again. I was forced to drop out of school for good, at which point I seriously considered just giving up and kicking the bucket. After all, what was the point of living if I'd spend the rest of my life chronically exhausted and in constant, searing pain? 

I was angry and bitter, for damn good reasons. I hated my body. I hated my surroundings. I hated my parents' decision to have me. Most of all, I despised it when people said they were praying for me and "sending good vibes" to me. I didn't care what religion they belonged to. I hated whatever God or gods people believed in, believing that whatever God or gods existed were responsible for my suffering, though at the time I did not believe in any spiritual stuff at all. I longed for death, looking forward to the day I'd go to sleep and never have to wake up, but my survival instincts and fear of leaving my beloved family heartbroken kept me alive.

Obviously, I managed to get back on my feet. A second round of phage treatments, coupled with very gentle exercise, buttloads of prescription medications, and lots of homemade soup got me through the worst infection I'd ever been through. By then, I was completely frayed and absolutely refused to return to any school that made me be in the same room as other students. I cried myself to sleep every night, fearing I had just cheated death the thousandth time only to be rewarded by being flung back into another musty school full of germ-riddled peers. Everyday, it was just a struggle to get myself out of bed every morning, and it took all of the courage I had to step outside and go for a gentle walk around the block in the sweet, spring air. 

There was, however, a light at the end of the long, horrific tunnel. I ended up being able to finish high school online, with the help of a teacher I could meet up with either in-person at the local library, or just online via Skype for an hour a day, five days a week. My teacher was a gentle older man with a PhD, and was formerly a professor, whom I'm still good friends with today. While I was very nervous about giving school yet another try, somewhere deep within me, I knew I was in good hands and would be okay. Dying or not, I had to give school one final try. If it didn't work out, then I could consider doing something else to fill my final days. 

In this environment, I was able to heal. My daily walks to the library a mile away and back helped me gain back the weight and muscle I'd lost while so sick. It was also important for me to get outside and in nature every morning. The library was located in Clement Park, just across a field from Columbine High School. There was a lake stocked full of game fish, and a 1.4 mile-long trail surrounding it. Wildlife was common too. On my walks, I heard and saw all kinds of birds, bugs, fish, prairie dogs, coyotes, and even the occasional mule deer. It was late spring when I began to attend school again, so the grass was green, flowers were blooming, leaves peppered the trees. 

For a couple of months, I flourished. I got to know my teacher to the point he was more like a friend rather than a teacher to me. I was doing startlingly well in school. I went from having a barely high-school understanding of math to catching right up to my peers in just a few weeks. I became more social and confident, to the point I decided I needed to gradually get over my fears of being in public alone and learning how to drive, so I could one day be an independent adult. Overall, I was really happy. Dare I say, even grateful that I survived.