Dear Saints in Santa Fe, and other far-off places, Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who wept at the death of a friend. “Stop crying and don’t tell mom.” These were the first words I remember in my life.  I was two years old and crying in a teepee in Teepee Village at Ghost Ranch, long ago replaced by others building on the way toward Box Canyon, when I heard these words by my oldest brother as I cried on his lap.