This first week of 2021 has been impossible. But why should it be any different? Because I want it to be is not a reason that I have found to work as an engine of change. I have been swinging between poles of gratitude and forlorn-ness. What a strange word, old-fashioned, and yet *forlorn* with its rhyme with torn and lostness is the word that comes to mind. Little Bo Peep was forlorn. America is her. The sheep have gone but I have no faith in their return. I’m not sure she should want them back. I’ve been listening to The Innocence Mission a bit—where the title of this post came from. If you don’t know them, I recommend. They have a January sound, maybe particularly this January’s sound… but not hopeless. That part is important.