Differences of opinion and differences in beliefs have separated me from those once held most dear. The summer of 2020 brought the culmination, deadwood branches falling from the canopy, revealing gaping holes. But through these holes swaths of sky are visible. Migrating birds journey toward seasonal homes. Will the stragglers find their flock or settle in unfamiliar territory? And what becomes of those in the latter?
On the bright side, I finally returned to the Church and confessed matters weighing on me for decades. Do I feel better or lighter in spirit for having done so? Not necessarily, but I’m on the right path, moving slowly in reconciliation of where I came from, where I am, and where I need to be, attempting to make up for lost time and undoubtedly botching things up in the process since that’s what I seem to do best.