Mid-January

::backdated to Jan 18::

It's the middle of January.

I've just left a lake side coffee spot where a former student I discussed things including, but not limited to, Jesus, her future, life plans.

I casually make my way home, Sawyer in tow.

We walk inside the our modest home in a quiet suburb of Austin to find things are not just as I had left them. Doors are open that I had left closed. Things are missing that I'm certain were there only hours before. Unfamiliar foot prints are visible on the floor.

We've just been robbed. 

I grab my son, heart pounding, and run outside. Ian is quick to answer my call. The police are anything but quick to respond. 

The police arrive. We take inventory of all that is gone or damaged. We make the initial call to our insurance company and sigh with relief that we are, in fact, fully covered for such an event. 

We thank the Lord we were not home when this happened, and pray for His Peace as we pick up the pieces. It's just stuff; tangible stuff that will wear out or tarnish before eternity.