We called it kickball. Between the ages of 10 and 12, my parents would carry me to my Grandma's house in Northeast D.C. every weekend. There in the safety of that cul-de-sac neighborhood, I would be challenged by the many street games we played, as well as by my sense of belonging. In time I came to appreciate who I was and how God had made me.
We called it kickball. Between the ages of 10 and 12, my parents would carry me to my Grandma's house in Northeast D.C. every weekend. There in the safety of that cul-de-sac neighborhood, I would be challenged by the many street games we played, as well as by my sense of belonging. In time I came to appreciate who I was and how God had made me.
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