When the newly ordained Episcopal priest Rev. Calvin Harper arrives in Victory, West Virginia, to be the pastor at an ailing parish, he has no idea how much he still has to learn about being a priest. Thankfully, Ruby Redding takes the young man under her wing and teaches him everything she has learned throughout her long, storied life. Seminary never taught Calvin that the only true way to be a witness to God’s presence in this world is to remain in relationships with people no matter what life throws at them. His studies never taught him that detachment is the bane of ministry. He never learned that deep grief comes only from deep love. But in his first year in Victory, Calvin learns all this and more from Ruby, a woman so full of God’s light that it can’t help but spill onto the people around her. A young priest, a struggling parish, a search for wisdom and love. Adam Thomas was ordained to the Episcopal priesthood in 2008 at the age of 25, making him one of the first priests from the millennial generation. His unique voice in the faith community emanates from a combination of his youth, honesty, humor, and tech-savvy nature. Adam is a nerd and a gamer and a preacher and a follower of Christ. He serves God as the pastor of St. Mark's Episcopal Church in Mystic, CT, writes the blog Where the Wind, and lives a hectic but beautiful life with his wife Leah and their one-year-old twins. His Abingdon Press resources include Unusual Gospel for Unusual People Series, Coverage: Who is Jesus, Letters from Ruby, and Digital Disciple. Letters from Ruby By Adam Thomas Abingdon Press Copyright © 2013 Adam Thomas All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4267-4137-1 CHAPTER 1 Three years earlier Calvin Harper exchanged the highway for a two-lanecounty road that stumbled down into a valley between twoAppalachian peaks, or what would have been peaks millionsof years ago, but which were now more like exaggerated humpsin the terrain. They were not imposing like the Rockies. Theydidn't pierce the sky like mountains do in pictures from sceniccalendars. Rather, they lay comfortably on the earth, like thelumps a sound sleeper makes under the covers. Evergreensand deciduous trees carpeted both squat mountains, and ahundred shades of high summer green painted on them a kindof contented, venerable majesty that the adolescent Rockieswill not match until wind and time have scrubbed away theirrough edges. Calvin followed the winding road down into the valley,which fell north to south between the two slopes. Calvin couldsee dozens of houses peeking out from the dense cover of treeson the opposite slope. As he descended, the density of houseson his side of the valley grew thicker until there were enoughof them for a generous person to collect them with the word"neighborhood." A weathered sign, which had skipped its last three or fourrepainting appointments, greeted Calvin at the spot in thecounty road where the slope gave way to level ground. Hestopped for a traffic light, the first he had encountered sinceleaving the interstate, and read the sign. "Victory—Established1781—B&O Railroad 1842—State Football Champions 1981,1982, 1994." Beneath the sign hung half a dozen plaquesannouncing the local societies: Rotarians, Elks, the VFW, andsome he couldn't read. Calvin's eyes passed over the rest of the plaques and fellon a rusted metal sign hanging at the bottom. A shield dominatedthe sign: red cross on a white field, a patch of blue inthe northwest corner. The once bold colors were now pastel,and the once bold writing was now faded nearly to illegibility.But Calvin knew what the sign said without reading it: "TheEpiscopal Church Welcomes You." He smiled at the familiar words, knowing people all overthe country were driving into towns and seeing similar signs.But the smile drooped as he strained to read the particularsbelow the message: "St. John's—across the railroad tracks—twoblocks—on right." Calvin put the car in gear as the lightturned green and ventured into Victory, wondering how truethe cheerful message of welcome was in a small town nestledbetween two demoted mountains. The car bumped over the railroad tracks, and Calvin lookeddown the row of old buildings for a first glimpse of St. John's.He could tell the downtown area of Victory, which straddledthe tracks, had thrived in years past. There were too manybuildings down the main drag and clustered near it along theside streets for Victory always to have been a small, tired town. But now many storefronts were shuttered and dark. Calvincouldn't tell if they were out of business or simply closed,though it seemed strange local businesses would be closedin the middle of a weekday. Some locations were obviouslyvacant: windows hid behind hastily hammered plywood,upon which was spray-painted, "4 Sale," and a phone numberto contact someone named Wally. Three buildings on the block past the railroad trackshad names carved into the stone of their lintels: Town Hall,Firehouse #2, W