Ripe for Indoctrination and Thirsty for a Glass of Ice Cold Kool Aid
“Oh, Don. I’m so happy you’re asking. You would be such a powerful witness for Christ.” And she held my hand for a moment that, in my head, was instantly underscored by some awful Christopher Cross song. I was hooked.
Her fury, her hurt, her fear and shame was pure focus. She dug deeper into her legs. The blood began to run down her thighs, soaking through her dress and forming a small puddle in the pew.