I arrived at the office a bit later than I normally do on Monday to find the place buzzing with overly excited workers. The news had been all about the fire at one of the recovery houses. A former resident had gone off the deep end and returned to his former residence and began an assault on the house.
First he threw bricks through the windows narrowly missing a blind man sitting in a chair in the living room. He next barricaded the door and went to the basement where he started a fire from some trash he had retrieved from the trash can outside.
It was a harrowing experience for the men trapped inside for that few moments but all turned out well including the capture and arrest of the deranged man.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm here. I don't seem to make much of a difference overall but then I get an opportunity to do something no one else can do and I am reaffirmed and greatly encouraged. I realize we all have our place. We all have our calling and we all need to be aware that it's up to God what happens and not us.
What has that got to do with a fire when I wasn't there to help or warn the men or help put out the fire? Nothing really. It just goes to show me that I am not the focus of what is happening here; God is. He decides what happens and how it happens and I don't have to be involved in everything that goes on around here. I just get to be a part of what happens and that's all that's matters in the end.
At least it's not boring.
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