By Fr. Dean McFalls,
The Mossdale Bridge is an uninviting place to be on an early winter morning.
I ventured out on its aging wooden timbers the morning we began Angela’s services. Already the sun was working hard to break through a cloud barrier. A chilly wind mixed with cool air rising from the river down below. With the gaps of empty space so visible between old railroad ties and through the grey metal grating, I made sure my cell phone and wallet were secure. What seemed thoroughly insecure was my safety as I began climbing the staircase. Continue reading