Wise Blue Autumn

I see stories in the young woman at the grocery store holding ground beef in one hand, a roast, perfect for Sunday dinner, in the other. I see stories in the man, my age or more, who waits for the bus at twilight on a busy city street. I see stories when our bishop, bundled against the chill of a winter night, walks alone toward the door of a family that is troubled. I see these stories, and they become my truth.' With this prelude, Marcus Hathaway, a 'fine old high priest' in his seventies...