“I hadn’t yet learned of the space between childhood faith and adolescent knowing, when we are still anchored to parents who try to stem the tide of growing up. Desperate to keep us safe they dam us in black and white, to stave off the treacherous river of gray. But when a child reckons innocence with reality, the flood is sometimes irreparable. The lever breaks and we are swept downstream. We grope for dry land, trying to make sense of a world that does not carry us as swiftly as we were once taught. We tear at the banks between innocence and truth, desperate for the bridge only to find that there are no square angles. No straight lines across. It all just bends.”