The Transfiguration Of A Believer

I suppose my quest for truth started when I was around thirteen or fourteen, and our cat Alexandra died. Up until that time, I had never really given God or the afterlife much thought. I was vaguely an atheist, minus a two-week stint where I decided to become Catholic, but gave it up when I realized I didn't actually believe there was a God. But kneeling next to her, crying and shaking her body, I remember thinking "This isn't her. This isn't Alex, what made her who she was is gone." It's not the most earth-shattering revelation ever, but it started me on my journey that would, for the main part, always be characterized by one thing: need.

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