First, It was Roy Rogers and Idaho

Until God briefly rubbed shoulders with my soul in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada on a young adult retreat, I planned on becoming a lawyer.

God’s call, while not earth-shattering, was life-changing. It took me on a road to seminary. All things considered, decades later—including a divorce later, one awful encounter with the well-mannered actions of institutional evil later, random and regular acts of hypocrisy later, spending too much money on books later, always having the eager companion of doubt later—I can still recall the faded, ephemeral memory of a divine calling and humbly say, “Thanks, God.”

It’s been a ride.

Still is.

Before thoughts of slogging through law school and changing the world as we know it as a criminal attorney championing the rights of the ignored, abandoned, and misunderstood, I wanted to own a horse ranch in Idaho.

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