Cook: The underlying peace of the heart
Some years ago Dr. Herb Barks, the longtime Baylor School headmaster, had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer.
Some years ago Dr. Herb Barks, the longtime Baylor School headmaster, had just been diagnosed with prostate cancer.
What is becoming more and more stunning to me about Monday's total eclipse is not what will happen in the sky but rather on the ground.
We're losing manners and the little rules by which we once played. A friend who's a Presbyterian minister points to Sunday mornings. Once quiet and reserved, Sunday mornings now are treated like normal days. Soccer tournaments are scheduled. Stores open early. Mowers and chain saws roar. These things would have never happened on a Sunday 10 years ago. (For the record: Often, they're my mowers. And our kids playing soccer.)

Three mornings a week, folks line up in the McCallie Avenue dark, waiting outside Metropolitan Ministries, hoping for help: a water bill paid, help with rent, an EPB account reconnected.
In loud, irrational times like these, do you need a reminder of what a graceful statesman looks like? A politician who's humble and wise? A man you actually admire?
Back in Iraq, they hide bombs inside trash, and trash is everywhere. On the roadside. In ditches. Outside homes.
How free are we in America?
What holds the keys and tumblers to this world? Is it cruelty? Chaos? When the pain of life howls outside our door, is there anything there in the dark night to explain it?

Not long after his son, U.S. Navy Petty Officer 2nd Class Randall Smith, was mortally shot at the U.S. Naval and Marine Reserve Center on July 16, 2015, Tracy Smith was ready to die himself. The grief was simply too much.
Rep. Chuck Fleischmann, R-Tenn., can't forget the June 14 shooting.