W. DEREK RUSSELL On a frigid night one December – Christmas Eve in fact – my daughter opened a small package with a bow to find a furry head pop out and lick her cheek. The some-week-old puppy inside yipped at her, instantly warming our hearts – even my cold one. Driving to church that evening, I asked Wesley what she wanted to name her new pet, thinking we’d have to keep away terrible choices like “Rainbow Dash” or “Olaf.” She thought for a moment and then excitedly answered, “Clark Kent!” Now, I know what you’re thinking.