The welcoming crowd cheered with abandon. Tambourines jangled, and someone to the side was patting out a clumsy rhythm on small bongo drums. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“Welcome Sister. Have you chosen your new name?” He had the glow, the open warmth that attracted her to the group in the first place. They all had it. She wanted it.

“I-I shall be Sister Starharvest,” she said hesitantly, “If that’s okay?”

He smiled, glanced back at the assembled crowd of fifteen or twenty acolytes, then turned back to her, “Of course it’s okay. You are here…we all are here to be our best selves.” He embraced her, a safe, accepting embracing, one that told her everything was going to be okay. She was okay.

“I’m so happy,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

Releasing a little he said somberly, “You have entered at the gate. Do you have the package?”

“Y-y-yes,” and she handed over the envelope with the leaden weights of this world that had been holding her back. Her pink slip, bank card, deed, and cash.