Wherein I lost my religion, but found my faith.

"Jesus loves the little raptors..."

Religion has always been a mixed bag for me. I never truly understood how so many people worldwide could adhere to such things for a lifetime. I have long been a fickle sort of person. Just one of my many charming characteristics I suppose.
I was raised more or less an atheist. My father was at that time a staunch non-believer, although from what I heard he died a Mormon. My mother was raised Catholic, but rebelled against much of what she was taught. From Dad, I would get lectures on the foolishness of believers and from Mom, I would get lectures on how just being a good person is good enough for God. I'm not sure about my younger brother, but given his cross tattoo, I'm gonna guess that he is some flavor of Christian.
In my teens, I became a Christian...sort of. It didn't last very long, and I never felt as though I fit in with the church-going crowd. By the time I was 16, I was following a Wiccan path. I continued to be a solitary practitioner until my early twenties. Motherhood seemed to wipe out any time I had to enjoy any sort of spiritual path. That changed when I was about 24 or 25. I found Christianity again, and dove in whole hearted.