I haven't put my thoughts to paper (or rather, keyboard?) lately. Thought I'd take a few minutes tonight to do so.
While driving to work today, I was musing about some facebook posts I've seen recently by friends or extended family members who consider themselves to be atheists.
I often think of the conversations we might have with each other if we were discussing my belief and their lack of belief.
They might ask me to prove to them that God exists, and I imagine them smirking when I tell them that I can't prove it to them.
I have no memory of God. And yet I believe.
I believe He is the father of my spirit. I believe He loves me.
Why do I believe this?
Maybe because of those feelings I get now and then.
Like the spring day when I was walking home from visiting a friend and I felt the warmth of the sun's rays on my shoulders and that warmth filled my heart and my soul as the thought came to me that my father was smiling down on me in that moment.
Like the overwhelming feeling of love I feel for others on odd occasions--and not just for my family members, but for perfect strangers at the four way stop on my drive to work. That feeling of love feels like it's ready to burst out of me and I just want to share that love with everyone I come into contact with. And I realize in that moment that it's the same feeling my Father has for every single one of His children.
Like the day when I was feeling so angry and sad all at the same time because my husband had stopped going to church after a very brief period of activity. And my bishop chose in his message that day to share with the congregation my husbands testimony to him during his baptismal interview--something I really needed to hear at that moment.
Does any of this prove that there is a God?
Maybe not to you.
But it's proof to me.
And I choose to believe.