All friends read in the woods are now texts which are more like lifetime intimates than imposed learning. You walk out of exams early to the consternation of fellow seminarians. Before long you have a Masters of Theology degree. You are assigned to a congregation. High hopes soon dissolve.
Storm clouds are on the horizon.
There are parishioners who will not abide your reflections of Native culture as part of your pastoral duty. Protruding Moccasins underneath vestments are too much for the faint hearted. Despite ancestor appropriate slight body hair, you manage to grow a traditional Lenape hair adornment. That's the last straw. You've gone too far.