This morning I was sitting on my porch and thinking about what I wanted to write about today. As I was looking at the sky and praying for inspiration, this flock of birds flew by. As they did, it reminded me of a story I first heard an African American pastor, Rev. Moss, in Chicago tell. Moss saw this slave tale as part of his story. In some respects, however, it is part of all our story.
It is said that this story has been passed from mouth to ear somewhere among the sandy palmetto dunes of South Carolina, a story passed down from West Africa to the North Atlantic, and trickled down the generations to the coast of South Carolina. It is the story, a unique story, of the people who could fly. And as stories go, with each telling the story gains a little different twist.