The past five months had put my mind and heart through the wringer. I’d left for Ireland in August and taken one of Greg’s books with me, thinking if I happened to find time, I’d perhaps give it a whirl. I ended up finishing the whole thing on the flight over, taking notes and marking up the book as though I’d be tested later. I reread it during my breaks, making more notes and coming up with more questions and, unfortunately, more reasons why my views on life and spirituality didn’t quite work the way I’d thought they did. After returning from Ireland, I devoured one of the other books, giving it the same brutal treatment as the first. I began to e-mail Greg, arguing and feeling sure I’d finally stumped him, but his answer would come back, and I’d be the one who was lost for words. I kept waiting for him to gloat or push me to give up, but he never did. He simply sent his response and then left me alone.

Four months of this didn’t seem to get me anywhere. I finally decided I needed to go somewhere to clear my head, somewhere I could escape from the everyday activity and surroundings of my life and give myself a little break. Sean’s cabin came to mind, and here I was. Of course, rather than allow myself to completely leave behind everything that had been hounding me for the past two seasons, I lugged the books along, reasoning that a new perspective would help me crack the shell of this religion thing and give myself all the reasons I needed to ditch it once and for all.

Rather than zone out in front of the TV after I arrived, I grabbed one of the books and started rereading it. By the time I felt ready to put it down, it was well past midnight. My head churned with the evidence I read, the notes I’d made in the margins after reading Greg’s e-mails, and the little questions I’d written but could now answer for myself. I didn’t know what to think of the arguments against God that I’d always heard. Greg seemed to refute them all. I lay in bed, exhausted yet convinced I wouldn’t sleep. My mind wouldn’t stop working long enough for me to drop into unconsciousness, or so I thought—but then suddenly it was morning.