A/N: If you can't tell already, this is a letter from Lorelai to God. It will give you some background information that is essential for moving on with the story. I know it's not my general form of writing, but I hope you enjoy it. It was the only way to keep moving forward while still being somewhat realistic. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Dear God,

There's that Judy Blume book about you. I think it's called Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret. I have my own version, I guess. Just take out the Margaret and put Lorelai in it's place. Are you laughing? Do you laugh, God? I'm always confused about you… You know. Sometimes you're big and mighty and as Bruce Almighty would say "Oh Mighty Smiter! You're a mean kid sittin' on an ant hill with a magnifying glass…" Okay. Maybe you don't want to hear all that again. I'm sure it hurt enough coming from Brucey-Wucey… Or do you call him Jimmy-Wimmy?

Okay, so here's the deal, God. I'm going to try and stay focused here for the first time in my life. Oh, look! A birdy! I'm kidding. But there seriously is a butterfly floating around and it's so pretty. Yeah, yeah, I know you made that. Woah, that butterfly is trying to eat Michel's hair. God, you gotta see this… Wait.

Okay, I'm really trying now. God, I'm sorry. I know I've screwed up. I can see you crossing your arms over your chest and saying "Lorelai, just shut up already." I don't appreciate that, God. Enough people tell me to shut up. Sorry. Anyway, I'm not really talking about getting pregnant with Christopher and miscarrying this time. I'm talking about the past ten years. Do you remember them, God? I don't know… We weren't really that close. And I can pretty much peg it down to my late teenage years.

You know, when I lived with my parents and went to church on Sunday, I'd like to say we were pretty close. I mean, we didn't have tea every afternoon or stay up all night talking about boys, but I'd like to think we were friends. I told you when I spilt pudding on my shirt most of the time. You were pretty "in the know." But then I had sex with Christopher and I shut you out. It wasn't because I don't love you, God… And it wasn't because I don't believe in you. I promise, I do. It was because, well, I was ashamed. I'd never really felt ashamed before. It was a whole new feeling for me. I just wanted to cover myself up and hide from you. And I tried that for a very long time. But, then I realized something… You can't hide in your own skin. Especially from the being that created it.

So, I was ashamed. And I thought I'd let you down. Sometimes I feel like we have all of these rules at church. You know? I mean, really, God… We can't do anything! Sex was one of those rules I thought I'd never break. I thought it would be so easy to just not have sex until I was married. I thought it was one of those rules thrown in there just for kicks so people wouldn't feel so bad about themselves after they lied and cheated and stole something. But it's hard, God. It's really hard. And now I understand why it's a rule.

Do you remember that time when I was four and I put my hand on the hot stove? What about the time when I was five and I flipped over my handlebars? Or when I was eight and I fell down the stairs in front of everyone? When I was eleven and I had to get my appendix taken out? When I was thirteen and I got my first cramps? When I was fifteen and Bobby Jones told me I smelled? Yeah… None of that hurt as much as sex… I don't mean physically, although, that was pretty painful. That is one thing they never tell you. Sex hurts. But other than that… Emotionally. I was so vulnerable that night. I've never given that much of me away to anyone… Not even you. And I don't know, God. I felt like my innocence was gone. In trying to be more grown-up and show someone an adult type of love, I let go of the best thing I'd ever had… And it was painful.

But, Oh God, the consequences…I remember during my senior year, the sex ed teacher at our school told us that getting pregnant was the best of the worst possible outcomes. I believed her. She also said that STDs were the worst because you can't get rid of them. I'm not sure I agree with that…Miscarrying is definitely worse, God. I don't understand why you gave that one to me. I only made one mistake. ONE. I never thought you were an angry, pay-back kind of God. I had fifteen minutes of lust and you repaid me by doing that. What kind of a God are you anyway? I'm not sure I want to worship a God that pays back one instance of sex by killing a child. Would you?

Now I'm crying, God. I hear you telling me to shut up again. I'm not sure I want to listen to you. No, I don't want to listen to you. I don't want to listen to someone who put me through so much pain. Wait… I put myself through this pain.

How could you ever love someone like me, God? I really don't understand this whole thing. I mean, I understand the concept… But I don't understand the action. I can't think of a single person I'd jump in front of a car or take a bullet for… And those are quick, painless deaths. I can't imagine loving someone so much that you'll slice your hands and feet open and hang outside naked just to make them feel forgiveness… But forgiveness is hard to feel. It really is. You can hear it all day long, but for some reason, you just want to be punished for what you did. You just want to be hated. You want someone to be angry with you. Because then, maybe, you could let go. You could stop being angry at yourself. And you could come to realize that you're only hurting yourself. Maybe.

I don't know, God. I haven't forgiven myself yet. I've barely begun. I don't really know how to forgive myself. Forgiving yourself for eating half a Milky Way is a lot different than forgiving yourself for having sex and letting a child die inside of you. Everyone keeps telling me it's not my fault. Everyone keeps telling me it was unavoidable. Everyone keeps saying they love me, and that it's okay… But the one person I need to hear that from isn't saying it… And that's myself.

I don't know how to love myself, when myself destroyed someone else. I don't know how it isn't my fault. I don't know how to not feel guilty about this anymore. I don't know how to let it be okay. I hear you telling me that you'll help me. I hear it, God… But you know me. I'm so stubborn. And I'm so hard-headed. I don't ever want to take help from anybody. But maybe, just this once, I'll let you help me. Just don't hurt me, okay? Please… Don't hurt me, God.

When I talked to my Dad earlier, that was the first time I really ever felt forgiveness. Mom and the Ls and Christopher… They didn't have any reason to forgive me. It's not my fault that happened, I know. My dad… He did though. I kept the biggest secret of my life from him. And instead of being angry and pushing me away, he pulled me close and told me he loved me regardless. He'd forgive and forget. That's what he said to me. He loved me regardless. And I think, at that moment, I really began to understand you, God. I really did. You love me regardless. I get it. That's why you keep doing things for me. That's why you keep trying to pull me in. That's why I keep hearing you and feeling you. You love me despite my mistakes. And for the first time in ten years, I've realized something. You want me to be happy. I deserve to be happy. You didn't die for me to be miserable… You died for me to be happy. Right?

So here's what makes me happy, God… My parents. Lydia. Laura. Christina. The Inn. Coffee. The Bangles. Movie marathons. Ben and Jerry's. Stouffers Macaroni and Cheese. Al's Pancake World's Chinese night. My cell phone.

Nope, that's all… Really, it is… Okay, there might be one more thing. I know we're letting go here, but this is hard to admit. Because if I admit it, it means I have to do something about it. And if I have to do something about it, it means it might fail, and I might get hurt. You're telling me to look up three paragraphs. Oh yeah, you won't hurt me. I remember now. Okay, but this is hard for me.

I know I've had a lot of failed relationships in the past. Most of them because of me and my own stubborn and selfish desires. This time, though, I feel like it might be right. It fits this time. It fits so well. It's like a brand new winter coat. The buttons are shiny and they stay in place. And it's still a black coat because it's so new that it hasn't even faded in the wash yet. Speaking of black coats, Michel has quite the nice black coat. That butterfly is still eating his hair. It's pretty funny, God.

Okay. Back on track. Well, God… How do I put this… I go to this place for coffee… Okay fine… His name is Luke. I see you feigning surprise. You really aren't that funny, God. Luke Danes. My best friend, Luke. The one that gets me coffee every morning. Some days, if I can't stop by the diner, he'll even hand-deliver it to me at the inn. He can keep up with my somewhat witty banter. He never fails to surprise me. He's always willing to listen to me. I... I can't explain it, God. He's just a good friend. And he's the only guy that I'm willing to try and get over this for. He's the only guy that makes me want to ask for help. So, I'm asking, God. I want to be okay again. I want to be strong and bold. I want to be able to love someone again. And I want to be able to be loved.

Thank you for listening to me, God. I know you heard me. My heart feels as if a Ford Chrysler has been lifted off it. I'm on the road to recovering, and I can feel you walking in front of me, paving the way.

I guess the only thing to say right now is thank you…and I love you.

Lorelai.