The High Plains, the beginning of the desert West, often act as a crucible for those who inhabit them.

Maybe the desert wisdom of the Dakotas can teach us to love anyway, to love what is dying, in the face of death, and not pretend that things are other than they are. The irony and wonder of all of this is that it is the desert's grimness, its stillness and isolation, that brings us back to love.

When you come to a place where you have to left or right, go straight ahead.

If grace is so wonderful, why do we have such difficulty recognizing and accepting it? Maybe it's because grace is not gentle or made-to-order. It often comes disguised as loss, or failure, or unwelcome change.

There are men I could spend eternity with. But not this life.

Only Christ could have brought us all together, in this place, doing such absurd but necessary things.

This is a God who is not identified with the help of a dictionary but through a relationship.