The long road, it is what I have begun to call our new lives.  We are on the long road to the other side: evil men, good men, we common folk, walkers, all just heading down that road.  It took us from the kill zone of San Francisco which was hell on earth: chaos, riots, acts of violence, martial law, walkers, more walkers than anyone, police, national guard, military could stop.  What else could I do but try to lead my God’ people out of there, but what was needed was no shepherded.  I fell back into military mind set, but too late, to few weapons, and with the highways clogged I took my squad to back roads, but quickly superior strength and fire power became the real enemy not the dead.  Well it is a story told too often of walkers, vicious men and women roving like packs of dogs. Sixty plus days we were out there being picked off.  Every place of refuge either housed violent men or was a nightmare of walkers. We were picked off one by one.  My final act was to kill two men that came up on our camp, good Sister Theresa wanted to help them, offer them comfort hope and since were alone then maybe find companions, but I knew, I knew the minute they would not speak, the minute they began to circle us that we were in trouble, but unfortunately for them I had been a soldier, and they had not anticipated I would be armed. There were no words as the men pulled knives, willing to take our things, take Theresa. I shot one down and wounded the other.  Poor Theresa, I hated for her to see me do it. I executed the on the ground. God forgive me, he had a belly wound, and what could I do for him.  I should have not done it, and I would say that I did it out of a sense of mercy, but it is not true I did it because he was my enemy, and I dispatched with a cool efficiency.  It wounded me deeply.  I might have been lost in my head but for Theresa who ministered to me.  I felt hollowed out, abandoned and wandered with Theresa in such a state in the dark night of the soul.  Where was God?  Where was my Savior in all of this.  I was off my path.  We came upon at last after further adventures to Arklay Island I gave up my ammo to the police, we wandered the island starving and then God fed me.  We met a man.  He was as dangerous a man as any we had encounter. A killer can spot a killer, and I knew when I saw him I understood him, but then as we spoke, he did the most unexpected thing. This man capable of anything, anything, bent and rolled across the street a can of food.  I realized God had not abandoned me but let me wander in this new reality to find all things change but nothing changes, not eternal things.  The Samaritan so despised by the status quo still existed and when he found us upon the road wounded and starving, metaphorically, he helped us.  He did not ask for thanks, he did not change his status as a man capable of anything, but he showed us mercy.  I have had to recommit myself to my vows, remember that not even my life is worth losing my principles over.  If I do not live by my principles what is the point of anything.  All things change, but in something I must be as consistent as the northern star.   May God grant me his mercy and his grace that I be a better man one day at a time.