The next few months proved to be some of the most difficult months of my life.

It was good work, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, there were moments that were downright frustrating. There are some parallels with wood splitting and story-work counseling.

But as my heart has been opened on the mountain top, making me more vulnerable to the evil fingers of shame and fear. They start their work quickly.

If you are still for enough time just about anywhere in Rochester and make any attempt to feel and discern the environment, you can feel the suffering. As I walked back to the hotel, I could easily sense the despair and weight of so many people being overwhelmed.

Just as easily as the sense of overwhelming engulfed me, the answer was right before me: fathers and brothers.

What my son wrote hit me on so many levels. Initially I felt like I had been exposed and sucker-punched. And quickly following that was the strong sense of heartbrokenness. And then pride and gratitude rushed over me like a wave.

Arriving early on a Thursday morning, the kindly man took on a fearsome gaze as he surveyed the hillside. It was defensible, but not unbreakable. His men would need additional protection if they were to survive what would come.