But did you die?

Have a life filled with wonder. It is so easy to fall into a rut.  I get up, get the kids ready for school, drop them off, pick them up, eat lunch, put the kids down for nap, try to do homework, go to work or school, attempt to spend time with my wife, maybe watch a show, and then get a little sleep so that I can repeat it all again the next day. The weekend comes and I attempt to relax.  Rinse; lather; repeat. Before you know it it’s a week later and the to do boxes are mostly checked and everything starts over. I had a dream the other day that I had turned into a kid again.  In the dream I played and imagined.  I looked at the world and was filled with curiosity.  I didn’t know why flipping a switch turned on the lights, and it didn’t bother me.  I didn’t care about bills, car repairs, or what was happening on Facebook.  The biggest concern was whether or not we had any Totino’s Pizza for lunch.  As the saying goes, the world was my oyster. Levi building a repair station.

            No one who was taken from this box has come back.   I didn’t know, or perhaps I didn’t want to know, how it was that I found myself here.   It was dark, so dark that I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face.   Periodically, a blinding light would shine from above and when it finally receded, those who were left would breathe a sigh of relief.   Originally there were twenty of us.   Our names didn’t really matter; just the fact that we were not alone was enough to calm most of us down.   We’ve searched the walls by feeling the perimeter and have not been able to find an exit.   I had felt my way to a corner, thinking that whoever or whatever has been removing the others would be less likely to find me if I was huddled away in a corner.   I sat down to try and think when the bright light erupted from above again.             Throwing my arms over my head I attempted to see what was above me when I was scooped up out of the corner.   Without thinking, I tried to flail a

“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ Matthew 25:45 This past week was a missions week at church.  To those who don't know, once a year my church brings in many of the missionaries that we support.  They share their struggles, triumphs, and plans.  It help bring home that what we do as a church matters. I was reminded this week that I have changed. I remember when I was young that I couldn't watch one of those "help the children" commercials without tearing up.  Now however, I found that in many instances I just didn't really care.  I would try to justify myself by saying that I am focusing on my families needs or that we already give financially, but really I have just hardened my heart.  I don't really pray for those I've committed to pray for as much as I should.  I don't really think about Valerine, the child we help support Ghana, t