After several years without television, I now have television. Funny thing is that I hardly ever watch it. Truly. I do homework. I study. I read (Garrison Keillor right now). This morning, it was a shock to read of a local drug bust in the morning paper. It's not over, we are told.
I'm not naive. I know that we have drugs here. We have an apartment building within sight of our own house that is reputed to be a drug place, a place that neighborhood kids are warned to stay away from.
They listed the faces of the people they arrested. I recognized more names than I thought I would, and I recognized faces from the store, a couple of kids that my kids knew. I was also saddened to see one of my own former Sunday school class students, a boy who'd graduated with my Dylan. I sat next to his grandparents in church all the time that I went there. I knew that his grandmother had been grieving over this boy for many years, and we'd prayed together for this child.
I studied his picture. He had smiled at the camera with an insolent smirk on his face, and I thought, "Oh, God, this will break his grandmother's heart." I read it. Heroin, for pete's sake. HEROIN.
I stopped by their house tonight, to leave a card on their door. I did not want to knock, not now. I know them well enough to know that they'll be struggling with this latest thing. They are nearly 90, and they believe in honor, in living good lives, in doing for others. The exploits of this boy shame them. It is enough, right now anyway, to let them know that they are beloved, and prayed for.