by Terry Hargrove
All day long, I waited for doom to fall upon my brother’s head. He had skipped church that morning, hooked up with his friend Eastep, and spent his collection plate money at Talley’s Market, so if ever anybody deserved a Divine Smite, it was Glenn. But that Smite, never Smote. At 5:45pm, we left our house and began the long walk to choir practice and Sunday evening services. At 5:51, Eastep appeared beside us, and he and Glenn turned left on Water Street, leaving me to go to choir practice and evening services alone.
After two eternal hours in church, I began planning my sojourn to Talley’s market when church next beckoned on Wednesday night. In my mind, I was explaining all this to God, how I was going to be His emissary to the Tallyites, and by my example, bring the lost sheep back to the fold. And if that holy work took 8-10 years, I was willing to make the sacrifice. Continue reading