God, there are a lot of people wanting to do what is right. They are searching, hoping, looking, and trying. They would like something final, definite and true at least for now and hopefully forever. Without whatever it is, nothing else will be or mean what it should. They have to find it. They need to see truth, to know it is not made up to save us from looking foolish.
Some people think you may be the one and sure truth that could give meaning and value. Others wish it were you, but they are not so sure. They are afraid you may be just an easy answer filling a void made only a little less empty by what you would offer.
God, I believe in you and want you to be real. I would like you to be all I say you are. I want to believe you are love and goodness, that you are kind and that you understand. I would also like you to believe in me, to stay with me helping me find who you are and that you are for sure.
I think what I ask will be best for both of us, that together we will be more real and less afraid, better able to trust, more willing to say yes to one another and so to all we might become. Maybe I ask too much, God, but it seems we need each other. Without you, I am only human; without me, you are just divine.
My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
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