Are you there, God? It’s me, Jakub. I know we haven’t spoken in a while. In fact, I believe it must have been quite a few decades since I figured out you were fake. Also, apologies for asking your devout disciples very uncomfortable questions. I was young and didn’t quite realize yet that people consumed by whatever ideology were not only unlikely to change their minds when confronted with contradictory opinions and – heavens, forbid – testable facts, but also that they were more likely to dig their heels in and go down swinging. I have since chilled, but I presume you are still holding a grudge. I should know based on available evidence, The Old Testament, that holding a grudge is how you rock on Sundays. So, I can only surmise that you are either still sore about the militant atheism of my salad days or that you don’t, in fact, exist, because it would have been a nice gesture on your behalf to send me a sign – I don’t know, a burning bush or a bolt of lightning… nothing too dramatic – to let me know I should not go to see Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret.  

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