It was a cold day in early January. The wooden floor was frigid to my bare feet. The joints in my hands and fingers moved slowly. I pulled a heavy wool flannel over me. Its course weave scratched at my…

Down that lonesome valley, lighting the lanterns, one if - two if, diving into the lines of bayonets, kneeling at the altar, empty handed, overburdened, scorned, grateful, burned, re-birthed. 

I think we are finally rounding the corner…