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USA250 Journal Project
Personal Chronicle: July 4, 2025 – July 5, 2026
A gift for reflection. A record of now. A story for what’s next.
✍️ “Who am I?”
I am Miss Cora Knight.
That is how they address me at church, and that is how I prefer it. I earned the “Miss,” and I kept the “Knight,” and both suit me just fine. I have never been anyone’s wife—but I have been a mother, a teacher, a sister in Christ, and a steward of our community’s moral compass for over fifty years.
Some say I am strict. I say I am faithful.
Some say I am out of touch. I say the Word doesn’t change just because the world does.
But if I’m honest—and the Lord knows I try to be—I have noticed a shifting in the pews. In the way young people tilt their heads when I speak. In the way Rebecca Davis’s girl looks me in the eye and doesn’t blink.
I am someone who has stood firm. And someone who knows what it is to stand alone.
✍️ “How did I get here?”
I was born three blocks from the church where I now teach. I grew up with hymns in my throat and discipline in my bones. My father was a pastor. My mother ran the house like a ship on choppy waters—tight, proud, unsinkable.
I was meant to marry once. A kind man named Albert. But he was drafted and never came back from Vietnam. After that, I poured everything into the children of this church.
I have taught the Beatitudes to five generations. Baked pies for every funeral since 1978. Corrected grammar, hemmed dresses, and reminded more than a few young men to take off their hats indoors.
I watched the world change outside the sanctuary windows—too fast, too loud, too proud. I stayed planted.
But lately, even within these walls, I feel tremors. Little girls asking questions that once only grown women whispered. Mothers rewriting lessons. Pastors sounding more like politicians.
And I wonder—not with fear, but with a quiet ache—have I become a relic? Or a root?
Life has taught me this:
Grace without structure is just sentiment.
But love without listening? That’s not love at all.
Family
Jamal Knight – Grandson.
