I know that the idea of wilderness is sometimes romanticized in literature or sermons by the now-clean and tidy prosperous ones who wax philosophic about rediscovery. But there’s nothing romantic about the arduous task of sorting through a lifetime of questions and wonderings. We sort on the threshold of grief and change, it’s a liminal space, and I hope you know I’m just as dirty and disheveled as everyone else. Because we never stop.
