Even now you have your good moments. Occasional glimpses of your heavenly self. When you change your baby’s diaper, forgive your boss’s temper, tolerate your spouse’s moodiness, you display glimpses of saintliness. It’s the other moments that sour life. Tongue, sharp as a razor. Mood as unpredictable as Mount Saint Helens. This part wearies you. But God impounds imperfections at his gate. His light silences the wolfman within.