When I was four years old I stole a wooden block from the preschool I attended. When my parents questioned me about the well worn wooden building block I said, "The school took us to a used toy store and gave us a nickel apiece to buy something." My parents were patient, but insisted that I return the wooden block the next day at the beginning of the school day.
I was apprehensive as I stepped from my mother's car and made the walk up the sidewalk to deliver my stolen good to the school principal and owner. She took it gracefully and I entered into a new day of school. Oh for the restoration principle to be so gentle and loving for those who have lived more days than children have.

The address of the, "used toy store," I conjured was at 50th and Utica. I now serve a church at 48th and Utica just a short jaunt from my childhood neighborhood. I believe that I work at that very used toy store that I lied about so long ago. The church is filled with, "used toys," played by others and left with made-up names, labels, and baggage that were given to them.