The setting for much of my novel Quiet Deception is a college campus. The campus is fictional, as is the story, but my own college experiences cast the mood.

Those experiences, and others barely remembered, surfaced when my husband and I visited my college for an alumni reunion, my first visit since my graduation. Old friends jogged memories. A stroll past my former dorm room whispered of bonds shaped during midnight talk sessions. Bitter sweetness, too, as we passed students, their decisions yet to be made, possibilities before them, as they once were for me.

The college vesper service knit these disparate musings into a small epiphany, the kind that bless us from time to time. The symbols of my religion, rock solid, touched centuries of Christian faith through times of growth, decline, and resurrection.

Vespers, the service of transition from the day’s activities to a time of rest, spoke of God’s presence in all of life’s transitions.

Day is done, but love unfailing dwells ever here;

Shadows fall, but hope, prevailing, calms every fear.

God our Maker, none forsaking, take our hearts, of Love’s own making,

Watch our sleeping, guard us waking, be always near.

(“Day is Done,” James Quinn)