I love Jesus.  I used to pray to him every night when I was a child.  Brought up Catholic, I had my Holy Bible (in French), my Rosary, my two candles on both sides of my kneeling area (never lit because I wasn’t allowed to deal with fire), and my book of prayers.  I said my “Je vous salut Marie, pleine de grace”, and my “Notre Père Qui Est Aux Cieux” with my rosary that was blessed by the Pope.  I wanted to be a nun.  I lived in this world until I was 11 years old and moved back to Canada from Turkey and met boys.  At this point my faith started waning.  Slowly but surely there were too many questions, too many unanswered questions, too much in the bible that weren’t answered in the Catholic Church that I wanted answers for.  Like, dreams.  I had dreams that were…