If you ever start to question if you are living in a mission field, move into a ground floor apartment. A couple of months ago some friendly locksmiths unsuccessfully tried to help themselves to our stuff. Recently, they were more successful in our friends' place across the hall. We sat with them as police dusted for prints.
I think these things happen to show us our own ugliness. I feel nothing but anger when it happens.
The point is, someone went to a lot of trouble to do this. They seemed to know when the four of us would be out. Someone who is so skilled at something that wicked is either extrememly desperate or deceived.
So we pray.
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