The sun streams through the one window not covered by blankets.  My farmer is finishing up chores.  The farm boy has come in to play guitar and unwind before he heads to school. How that boy is changing.  He is shaking off the ways of this world; letting of of the anger and hurt.  Reaching for the holy and true.  Slowly the sharp edges are becoming smooth.  A bit of grace on the farm.  The milk checks grow thinner.  The transition date seems miles away.  The cold settles in.  Much to lead to the path of ... View Post