Three years ago, I found a forgotten roadside shrine in the woods outside Mosswood, Indiana. Dedicated to Saint Dymphna, it held offerings left by a grieving mother—drawings, a lock of hair. I took one of the drawings, and that night I dreamed of a child named Clara, pointing at a door. When I returned, I found a drawing of myself kneeling in prayer. The shrine, I learned, marks where Saint Agnes's Home for Children burned down in '98, killing a little girl. I went back to ask what she needed, but left only a promise I never kept. Some vigils don't end. Some offerings wait forever for the right person to understand.