We watched a movie in CCD about David and Bathsheba on the old projector with the ripped screen. Do you know the story of how King David fought a giant and won, was anointed by a prophet over all his older brothers to be the king of Israel, went up to the roof of the palace, saw a soldier's wife bathing in the moonlight, and was struck by beauty so fine that it became his undoing? He persevered in fidelity to God in a battle against enemies who were once confidants and mentors. And I was the baby in my family, in more than one way, and would never be trusted to tend the sheep much less lead a nation in battle. But somehow at thirteen, I was to be catapulted into an elevated plane of my seventh-grade reality by an illness that was going to try my faith and make me either a warrior or an infant.