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It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God. I just didn’t think he believed in me. Not in a negative way, but I’ve always seen him as the hands-off type.

Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.

He put me on this earth just like everyone else: generationally. It’s an experiment of which he already knows the outcome. Seems pointless, but what do I know?

If I did things right and kept my nose clean, I’d be allowed into heaven. What that looks like or means I have no idea. So the goal, as I saw it, was to be nice to everyone, and then something will happen to me after I die in a good way.

That was then. Now, I’m much less concerned with the end game. Mainly because I wouldn’t get in under my own standards. Like the program suggests, take everything a day at a time, and the rest will work itself out.

I mean, c’mon. Do I really need to know God’s plan in order not to be a jerk? To not take a drink? Odds are if he told it to me, my head would explode.

For today. Quit worrying about the plan. Maybe heaven is the absence of plans.

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