It seems to me that atheists are becoming exceedingly shrill. Perhaps the swing towards a materialistic, deity-free culture has empowered them to come out of the shadows and boldly proclaim their belief in nothing and no one besides their own wisdom.

To be honest, atheists have never bothered me too much. I reserve my ammo for the “functional atheists”, those who give lip service to God but act in their everyday lives as if He is not the prime factor.

But apparently I, and those of my ilk, really bother them. We constantly annoy them by bringing up the “G” word and they fire back with odd fervor for a group who are so insistent on this entity being imaginary. They seem to lurk in the comment section of the Internet, mocking, insulting and foisting their half-baked intellectualism and Darwinian intellectual superiority upon those of us hayseeds who are so naïve as to even contemplate a Creator. They cause a ruckus in their attempt to sanitize any cultural, social, educational or political realm of the hint of this deity.

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Meet Barbados, friend of a few months, from whom I’ve gained much respect and perspective. He comes from the Islands, hence the name, and holds a resume more notable, maybe, than anyone I’ve ever met.

At some point during our first evening together, Barbados told me about one of his early endeavors, a start-up electric company in Cambridge, Massachusetts. He certainly wasn’t bragging, and was actually quite humble, but it was obvious from what he shared that Barbados had done very well for himself.

He went on to share that this company served the wirings of a feisty college student named Barack. Barbados had much political passion and insight, so ended-up taking the “Harvard kid” under his wings. “His early days dating Michelle were of my favorite conversation topics, or playing ball with him at the local gym. What started as simply helping a guy with home repairs, turned into befriending a man who is now the President."

Some days I have an easier time believing God. Today wasn’t one of them.

I woke on the wrong side of the bed, literally. Still not sure how it happened, but somewhere in the night I twisted a full 180 degrees and woke with my feet at the headboard. Also woke in a bad mood. Had gone to bed in a bad mood, too, but expected the night to ease my mind. It didn’t. Also woke hungry. And not just any hungry, but picky hungry, like for a particular peanut-butter bar, only found at a particular Fresh Market store ten minutes away.

Somewhere en route, I started reflecting on the end of summer and how I enjoy this season because of its lack of structure; but also how weary I can become by a season's lack of structure. My mind floated between different times in my life, where neurotic covenants defined structure and me, or when anything half-related to structure was obliterated. And then I had this bizarre recall of a season that struck something near the middle. It was far from an easy, or fluid season, but marked for me a set of months where inclinations toward structure collided with those who wanted none, and I started to experience something of the co-existence herein.

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