By Paul Koch

My arrival at her home was announced long before I rang the doorbell. Two little dogs proclaimed the approach a visitor by the time I started down the driveway. I was going to visit a dear old member of my congregation. I had been to her home many times before, and each time began the same way: with the hushing of yapping dogs and clearing off a place to sit.

By Cindy Koch

It was only 6:15 in the morning when the radio clicked on in the dark, cold car. “49 confirmed dead, but that number will surely rise…” It took my breath away to hear the first audible voice of the day speaking about such horrific events that had passed as our night broke into daylight. Suddenly radio screams and tap-tap-tap gunshots pierced our sickly curious silence. Right in the middle of our daily drive to the gym, tragedy stretched it’s sting across the airwaves – and without parental permission, it touched my family car.