I watched the mailman open my mailbox, take out my letter, climb back into his truck and drive away. I got back on my knees in prayer. Once again, I asked God if I had done the right thing in mailing the letter. It had been a long time since I'd spoken to its intended recipient. (I'll call her Caitlin.) Never before (or since) had I experienced such overt and consistent hostility from a friend. Caitlin and I had lived in the same ward as young married women, and had been friends for only a few ... VIEW POST