I was playing tennis on a cool spring afternoon when little girl strolled up the sidewalk, dismounted her bike, and began ritually examining each flower growing along the fenced tennis courts. I was captivated. She carefully navigated each bush, bent her helmeted head close, and drew in the aroma of …
When the foundations are being destroyed, what can the righteous do?” Psa. 11:3 The once peaceful mountains of Virginia have received a baptism in blood, and the valley echoes with the sound of mourning. What seems too fantastic to be a movie, a scene that would draw scorn in a …
What I can’t figure out is how to say, “My father, Anthony Davis, has cancer.” I can’t figure out how to say it because it seems so fatal, so unreal. The thoughts that haunt my waking and lying down are in need of green pastures, in need of quiet waters, …