There are no atheists in foxholes, they say, and I was a foxhole

Host: The room was quiet, the soft light of the evening casting long shadows across the space. Jeeny sat at the table, a notebook open in front of her, but her thoughts clearly elsewhere. Jack stood near the window, his arms crossed, looking out at the world below. There was a stillness in the air, as if they were both waiting for something to be uncovered. Finally, Jack spoke, his voice calm, yet filled with a sense of reflection.

Jack: (his voice reflective) "There are no atheists in foxholes, they say, and I was a foxhole atheist for a long time. But after going through a midlife crisis and having many things change very quickly, it made me realize my mortality. And when you start to think about death, you start to think about what's after it. And then you start hoping there is a God."

Jeeny: (looking up, her voice gentle, yet filled with curiosity) "That’s such a powerful realization. How facing mortality can lead you to question everything — to reconsider your beliefs, your purpose. It’s like a wake-up call that forces you to think beyond what you know, to confront the bigger questions."

Jack: (nodding slowly, his voice calmer, almost in understanding) "Exactly. It’s strange how, when everything feels stable and predictable, you don’t think much about things like mortality or the afterlife. But when life suddenly shifts, when you face challenges or change quickly, it brings those questions to the forefront. It’s like a door opening to something bigger, something you can’t ignore anymore."

Jeeny: (her tone thoughtful, almost empathetic) "It’s a natural part of the human experience, isn’t it? To start questioning what comes after life, what it all means, when you realize how fragile life is. You start to wonder if there’s something greater, something beyond what we can see. It’s almost like a search for comfort in the face of uncertainty."

Jack: (his voice gentle, almost with a hint of introspection) "Yes, exactly. I think when we realize how little control we have over life and death, we start seeking meaning, seeking something to hold onto. And for some, that search leads them to faith, to the hope that there is something after all of this."

Jeeny: (nodding, her voice reassuring) "And that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? When we face our own mortality, we’re forced to grapple with the bigger questions, the ones we often avoid. And in doing so, we find something that gives us a sense of peace, whether it’s faith or understanding or just the hope that there’s more."

Jack: (his expression softer, with a sense of realization) "It’s humbling, really. To acknowledge our own mortality, to confront the unknown. And in that confrontation, we start to find something deeper — a sense of meaning, or a hope, that maybe we’re not alone in it all."

Jeeny: (smiling gently, her voice calm) "Exactly. It’s a reminder that life isn’t just about what we can control. It’s about accepting the things we don’t know, embracing the uncertainty, and finding comfort in the possibility that there’s more than just the here and now."

Host: The room seemed to exhale, the weight of their conversation shifting into a quiet understanding. Jack and Jeeny had uncovered something profound — that facing our own mortality often forces us to question everything, to look beyond what we know for answers. It’s in that search, that vulnerability, that we begin to understand the deeper aspects of life — and the possibility of something greater beyond it. The world outside continued on, but inside, there was a shared recognition that while we can’t control everything, we can choose to seek meaning, hope, and comfort in the unknown.