“So, you did it?” A whispered male voice snapped me out of my reverie. “You sent him out?”

“Yes. I sent him out. Goodness, I wish we didn’t have to do this every year. It gets harder and harder.”

“I understand your sorrow Sister. He was a good boy, and having one of yours draw the lot can’t have been easy, but the price must be paid.”

“I know Father. It’s not sorrow, it’s more…regret. He could have been useful. He was smart, and quick, and the other children looked up to him. He was brave.”

“Ah, but Sister, if we didn’t let Him choose, how would we know whether the choice was wise? We know He has a plan, and we must allow it to unfold.”

“I understand Father. At least they only demand it once a year – I don’t think we could afford to pay the price more often.” I whispered back.

“Trust in His plan Sister. Trust Him. Now, how about we go in and sing some hymns, would you like that?”

“Yes Father.”

We turned, and walked back into the light and warmth, leaving the foggy entryway behind us.