
When I glance over the passage of years, there are key transformative moments that stand out, riding the deep blue waves of my memories like orange buoys.
One moment was the night I first found God at the age of eight, kneeling beside my bed, my father’s gentle arm around me, confessing my sin and feeling a burden fall away. Another occurred during my baptism at the age of 12, kneeling in front of my community as our gentle new bishop splashed water on my unruly brown hair, binding my spirit to God’s in a sacramental ceremony.
I did not notice the Hound of Heaven slinking into the back of the sanctuary as the sacramental waters flooded my heart and soul. It would be years before I realized how often his sharp bark caused me to st…
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