I believe in the inter-related truths of science and religion. The dogmas of my faith and my knowledge, when put together for a cause, can change the world.

Although it may be argued that at my age I am unable to ascertain enough of either to have such a belief, I am very well read in both. In my free time I’ve explored the studies of Richard Dawkins (not to the pleasure of elderly women in the bookstore) to the experiences of Colin Burpo (apparently more of a socially acceptable option). I have received my Confirmation, yet I sleep with A Brief History of Time on my bedside table. But before this turns into a Confession, I would like to defend myself by saying I have found my religion in both science and prayer. Both paths give peace to the injured and woebegone, like me. That is why, while bowing my head at Church, I thank God and doctors equally for making miracles happen.

I have a habit of observing. While contemplating my surroundings I find beautifully peculiar things that don’t jump out to the distracted eye. When I pay close attention, I notice that Life has a poetic way of working. I see these poems in my fate.

In a surname, a lot can be discovered about a family such as its past professions or craft. My family’s last name means warrior. Poetry- because it would be modest to say we have not put up with our fair share of battles. My youngest brother, from the day he was born, became a warrior like the generations before him, science and religion serving as his armor.

Twelve years ago, Giancarlo was diagnosed with Cystic Fibrosis. When I was old enough to realize what this would mean to my brother, I scoured religious documents and books semi-obsessively for an explanation as to why this would happen to him. Why not me? After all, I was the one who would grow up to appreciate John and Stephen Hawking’s observations equally. That had to be a sin on some level.

Again, I picked up my habit of observance and Life ushered out another poem. I noticed that my parents would call on Church and Doctor alike for answers about my brother. I joined them with our family here and abroad. Shortly after my brother’s diagnosis, his future didn’t look quite so dim. Our family had regained enough strength to get up off of the floor and we were placed on our knees. On our knees we did most things: play with Giancarlo, pray, and depend on medicine. Now, twelve years later, we are on our feet. We sing, standing with the choir. As I plan to become a doctor like those that helped my brother, I stand next men of science while volunteering at hospitals.

I won’t forget what happens when science and religion come together against fear. I know with them I can have peace; they make up my religion. I’m sin free.