I hear you. And I'm not here to argue you out of where you are. That wouldn't be honest—or loving. Twelve years of Catholic school and a career in the sciences—that's a lot of weight. A lot of questions. A lot of frameworks that don't always sit comfortably together. I can see how walking on water feels impossible when your mind is trained to measure, to test, to require evidence that fits inside observable laws. But here's something I've learned: faith and science don't have to be enemies. Science asks how. Faith asks who. One explores the mechanics. The other asks if there's a Mechanic. I don't believe because I ignore science. I believe because I've seen things science can't explain. Not parlor tricks. Not magic. Just... moments. Peace that didn't make sense. Healing that had no medical explanation. A presence in silence that I couldn't have conjured on my own. I'm not asking you to check your brain at the door. I'm just saying—maybe the door isn't as narrow as you think. Maybe there's room for both wondering and believing. For asking hard questions and leaving room for mystery. You said maybe someday. I'll hold that with you. Not as pressure. Just as hope. Because I believe the One who made the water—and the physics that hold it together—isn't threatened by your questions. He's probably less religious about it than the people who taught you. If someday comes, I'll be glad. If it doesn't—you're still a person I respect for wrestling honestly. Either way, thank you for being real about it. That takes courage. 🙏