Tonight I heard a Roman Catholic priest preach at our Baptist All Saints Day Sunday evening service.

As I fix a light breakfast before going to work, I hear a lone bird outside the kitchen window: cooing. Groaning repeatedly. Insistently. 

I sit and watch them: communing; commiserating; discussing; articulating – all about the mechanics of educating the nation.

Where are You, Lord? Sometimes when I talk to You I feel as if I’ve entered a fairly large, pitch-dark room and closed the door.