Staunton Star - Times - Published in the Interest of the Staunton Community for Over 143 Years

One complicated afternoon I drew aside from the hurried crowds and stood alone upon a quiet hill by Silver Lake. In those moments of silence I remember vividly the touch of the soft gentle breeze as it blew across my face. Tender as the sweet kisses of breaking dawn falling over the small mourning dove eating low to the ground, I felt the spirit of the wind song in my soul. I called this a grace day.

As the years go by, we all will need to measure the winds that blow over our days. Some will move around us with a kindness all their own. Others will come with hurricane strength to toss us as...