I must have walked past the bishop’s office at least 10 times that night. To my 15-year-old brain, it felt more like 100, but I kept walking by even though Mutual had been done for a while. Trying to look nonchalant, I walked toward the lobby one more time to see if the bishop’s door was open, just like I had the week before and the week before that. It hadn’t been open any of those other weeks, but tonight might be different. Palms sweating, stomach aching, and head hanging low, I slinked one more time through the church building.
