My family is not religious. With my mom growing up in Communist China singing songs of how great Mao Zedong is, Mao was her god and not the traditional “being than which nothing greater can be conceived,” as the philosopher and monk Anselm of Canterbury put it. So I found a particular interaction peculiar, even at my young age, regarding religion. Our family car pulled to a stop at a red light, and to our right was a church. My sister asked me, “Do you believe in God?” She always manages to come up with the most random questions at the right times. With a strong suit in mathematics and science, I…
Previously featured on Tell Your Story, Prism & Pen, and Write Here Wednesday