When I was four I used to lie awake at night, brain spinning, as I tried to solve the questions that adults couldn’t, or wouldn’t, answer.

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“Everyone has a mother,” I thought. “All the way back to Adam and Eve. They didn’t need a mother because God made them. But who is God’s mother? Who made God?”

“No one,” did not feel like an adequate answer.

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I decided I didn’t believe in God.

Then attempted to convince my three year old brother to follow my lead.