1751

Now Caspar is weeping, openly and loudly, howling like a child who has just fallen down and hurt himself for the first time in his short little life and no mommy or daddy nearby to pick him up and console him. I am next to him, and instinctively my arm goes around his back, and now he is leaning into me, weeping and convulsing, and howling so loud that every eye in this coffee shop is upon us. "I killed him", he wails. "I killed him, I killed Jesus. I killed God..." He is finally starting to calm down, his voice has gone quiet. "How can I ever find forgiveness." A young and very tender voice says suddenly, "And now I live..."