A Grifter, a Funeral, and a Flashlight Walk Into a Bar...

I was called a grifter. I sat at a funeral. A reader said I'm holding a flashlight, not giving instructions. All three moments pointed to the same truth.

This Week: A Grifter, a Funeral, and a Flashlight

This week, I don’t remember the days. I remember the moments.

Two things stand out clearly.

One, I was called a grifter.

Two, I sat at a funeral and witnessed what I can only describe as Big Love.

And somewhere in between those two moments, something else happened quietly, almost without me noticing at first.…