God. Are You There? It's Me, Sister NotSo.

I rocked my son a little longer tonight. He fell asleep in my arms and listened to his little puffs of sweet breath. He smelled so delicious after his shower with his big sister and myself. It was important for me to take that moment and absorb every last element of love I have for him.

Now. I sit in my bed with my daughter. She is eating popcorn and candy. She is watching the television as I type this. When I am done, she will brush her teeth, and I will put her to bed. I will snuggle her a little longer tonight. I will stroke her smooth hair and whisper in her ear how much I love her once she dozes off into dreamland.

And I really need God to be real. When I decided to take the step and explore the questions bothering me about The Church, I experienced so many emotions. One of those emotions was fear. All I had been taught was unraveling and lacked truth. There was one question I feared to ask myself, but I had to. I had to question whether-or-not God was real and that terrified me.

Not having God meant no eternal life. No seeing Husband NotSo in the afterlife, or my children, or my family. It meant this was it. Once we have taken that last breath, our being is gone, and after some time our bodies would rot into nothingness. Only memories and dust left.

After wrestling with my thoughts and praying over and over for God to be real, and summoning up every supernatural/spiritual experience in my life, I decided there is a God. However, there is the tiniest bit of skepticism remaining, haunting me.

God needs to be real because I found out earlier this week that after many blood tests and a bone marrow biopsy, my father has a form of cancer called myelodysplastic syndrome. Basically, his bone marrow is producing immature red and white blood cells, causing him to be fatigued and become susceptible to infection. Treatment will help prolong his life, but he may only have 2 - 5 years beyond his 69 years of life to live.

Never in a million years had I thought my father would die of cancer. He is the most self-motivated, determined, and until recently, healthiest person I know. I thought there was a great possibility he may even outlive me. I just can not wrap my mind around the fact that THIS is what is going to take his life. I always pictured him passing peacefully in his sleep after he had spent the day before building something for his house, or by spending the day skiing under a blue Snowbird sky.

I have cried. I have staved hysterics. I have been numb. I am angry. I am angry at cancer. I want to hurt it. I want it to feel the helplessness I feel. I want it to feel the fire of hate I have for it. I want it to feel my mom's pain and my father's pain. I want it to feel my siblings' broken hearts. I want it to suffer the highest amount of suffering possible, only to be revived, and suffer many times more. I hate it.

Please, God. Please be real. Please be my spirit father and please let there be eternal life. Please let me see my earthly father again. Please.