Omer Wells are us

I'm living my own version of the Cider House Rules these days. The going back part. The part where Omer puts his steps in those in those of his "father" while the father figure has just died and will never again hold his hand. This Sunday will be my last in the only church I knew while growing up in Alsace. The Sunday after that will be my first in H.'s parish, somewhere in rural Australia.