Weitz Dear Jenny, God loves you and so do we. I prayed for you in church on Sunday. The door looks down from the second story with no stairs leading up to it.
Broken windowpanes offer a view into the empty rooms.
As I move around through the vines to find the ladder I stashed, my stomach becomes nervous. There's no need to knock-I've been to this house many times before. Now I can recall my own steps through this place. And still moving I find my fingers trailing along damp, cracked molding. It ends in a pool of light where I can imagine . . .