Driving through my beloved South, I have often seen empty homes and gas stations and barns and restaurants completely covered by kudzu. Even in wintertime, the leaves go brown but they remain intact on the knotty vines. Through the years, my reaction to these scenes has been one of sadness, especially for the little abandoned businesses. I have always thought, “That was once someone’s dream. And now it’s ruined, and where are the owners now?” Lately, though, my thinking has changed. These failed enterprises are scars. That is, they are part of the map of battles of someone’s life, marking the territory of hope and ambition and dreams and focused…