**I was a little concerned about whether I should post this, but this morning I woke up to discover that today is Atheist Day, a day for normalizing atheism. It felt like divine intervention, so here goes…

I’m an atheist. Let’s just get that out there. I do not believe in any gods. I’m not ashamed of it, but I also tend to rarely mention it because the subject never comes up. And some people have misinformed and derogatory notions of what an atheist is. So, I just don’t broadcast it…until now, I suppose.

I live in the buckle of the Bible belt. I understand and respect the fact that most of the people I interact with on a daily basis, most of my friends, are Christian. It always surprises me how many of my friends descended from Nazarene elders and, maybe because of that, how much they love to dance.

Because I don’t appear to be different from anyone else, most people assume I’m Christian. A former friend was floored when I tried to correct her misconception.

Her: “But you act like a Christian. You can’t be an atheist. You’re not like Charles Manson!”

Me: “Actually, I think Charles Manson is a Christian now.” (This was back in the 90s.)

Her: “Well, you don’t act like an atheist.”

Yes, I’ve never led a doomsday cult or instigated mass murder. Those darn atheists. She stopped returning my calls shortly after that. Her loss.

As an Italian, I was raised in the Catholic Church. I was baptized, made my first communion, and was confirmed right on schedule. I was a very active member of our church’s folk group, where I learned to play guitar and occasionally sang a solo during mass. We even recorded an album! For a while in high school, I dabbled in a tiny, culty Pentecostal Catholic offshoot (with an emphasis on faith healing and speaking in tongues) but at some point, I realized it felt ridiculous. I really just wanted to fit in.

By the time I was in college, I was secure in and at peace with my non-belief, and I haven’t looked back. When my daughter was young, in an effort to educate her on the ways of the world, I took her to whatever church she wanted to go to. We explored Catholicism, Unitarianism, Episcopalianism, various other Protestant sects, and a touchy-feely church called Unity. In the process, I learned that churches in Nashville tend to have pretty amazing bands and the snacks are top notch.

But all along, for the past 40-something years, I’ve been a free thinker, a non-believer, a heretic. I’m good with that.

(Side note: Heretic with Hugh Grant on Netflix is a terrifyingly fun and irreverent ride, as long as you can handle some heretical truth bombs.)

As much as I get annoyed at being expected to bow my head in religious prayer before a meal, the last thing I have ever wanted to do is try to talk anyone out of their religion. I know that religious belief is important to many people, and who am I to tell them otherwise? Whatever gets you through this shit-show of a life is fine with me. Just give me equal respect and don’t force it on me, that’s all I’m saying.

When I started letting my friends know I have a brain tumor, I really appreciated how hard some of them worked at not saying they would pray for me. “I’ll be, um, thinking about you.” I could see the wheels working, and I knew that they would be saying a secret prayer for me at some point. And I was surprised that I didn’t mind. In fact, I appreciate it.

Lately, as the surgery is getting close and I’m seeing friends for the last time before I leave for California, some are taking a bold leap and letting me know they will be praying for me whether I believe in it or not. One close friend told me she gets on her knees and prays for me nightly, and I know that some want to know exactly when I’m going into surgery and when I’ll be getting out so they can time it right. And you know what? I’m honored and humbled that there are so many people in my life who care this much about me.

Believers talk about the power of prayer, and I’ve always dismissed it. I will never believe that prayer can make a difference in how the surgery turns out or whether the tumor will grow back. I worked hard to find a very experienced doctor at a world-class facility who has dedicated his life to removing brain tumors, and that’s where my faith lies.

But knowing that people are concerned enough – love me enough – to take some time out of their day to wish the best for me gives me strength. I can feel it and I’m grateful.

And to my atheist friends, I’ll take your good vibes as well! Namaste, and happy Atheist Day to all who celebrate!