I was 18, in the Army after graduating from high school, feeling lost and homesick, searching for a church I could receive in, a cause I could believe in, money to pay for college, a way out of learning how to bayonet and shoot faceless “enemies” in Fort Benning, Georgia. The Joshua Tree on my clandestine Walkman, hidden in a ceiling panel above my bunk, kept my soul whole and my mind clear in basic training. I eventually broke my arm beyond repair. I was discharged. I was lost. But The Joshua Tree helped me heal. I found my church (I run a retreat center and farm for the Episcopal Church) and my causes and my education. Not the life I imagined, but better at 48.