by David A. Fiensy It is unusual when someone enters your office, sits down, and immediately begins crying. When the white-haired lady regained her composure, she said only, “My husband is in the car. Would you come out and talk to him? Our minister won”t.” Thus began my acquaintance with this saintly, if unusual, couple that would continue over the next six months for him and over the next few years for her. Later, as I stepped inside the door of their small, frame house on the appointed day of my visit, the wail arose almost immediately. The poor