Of Nightingales and Leaden Chains
One January evening in 1947 I thought I heard a nightingale. I wouldn't have heard the bird were it not for Father. It would have been the evening of an ordinary travel day in our migration east were it not for Father. We would not have been in the car heading for Chicago at all were it not for Father. It had been his idea to accept the call to St. Stephen's Lutheran Church...