I will try. My mom was a German existentialist. Nietzsche slash Heidegger worshipper. Dad worshipped mom. Dad believes he is some type of noncommittal Texas Christian, but the word God was spoken maybe twice in the nineteen years I lived there. Super educated, hyper well-read, erudite, materially prosperous people. Moral, ethical, excellent humans.

But, despite all the ivy league schools and earthly pleasure and triumph, all this ten trillion books we all constantly read, there was one particular book that was never, ever brought up. Never. They never talked to me about God or spirituality at any time. Never. I somehow located a bible and started reading it. Probably my grandad's. Age 8, maybe. No idea why, but always wanted to be close to God. But my parents were secular humanists. Functionally, I was raised to be an atheist.