I listened to a story told at the racetrack, trying to demonstrate the power of Satan in everyday lives: A mother and father were cooking breakfast when they received a call from the hospital saying their daughter was in a horrible car accident. They rushed out of the house, arriving at the hospital to find her bruised but well. When they arrived home, their house had burnt down. The burning of the house was an act of Satan. The people at the track nodded and clapped and amened. They understood that the family hadn't protected themselves from Satan.
I don't understand. All I could think was that someone had forgotten to turn of the stove, or left a dishtowel too close to the flames. The family hadn't been careful, true, but it wasn't because of Satan.
I believe in fate. If something big is going to happen, all the preparation in the world won't stop it. No amount of prayer or holy water or Eucharist is going to change a damned thing. Maybe other people call this God. I don't.
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