On Being Divinely Ambushed

An Escape from Fear

It’s Saturday afternoon. I’m sitting in a comfy chair in our bookstore during one of the few quiet spells we’ve had since we opened on Thursday. Cars swish past on Prince Street, their tires kicking up the rain. The spring leaves on the maple tree (or is it a sycamore?) outside the front door are lime green and sagging under all the moisture.

I didn’t fe…