I joked at the beginning of the pandemic, which was during the season of Lent, that this time was “the Lent of our lives.” A time to lament, to sit with death. We sense that new life will come, but not how or what it will look like. I didn’t know then how true it would be. 

The way home is by walking, attentive to sight, sound and smell, loving the path.

There is, I suggest, a geography of faith.
Christian faith is neither generic nor homogenous.
Faith is always particular to place and time.