From the time I was a small child, I went to church with my family each week. I participated in Sunday School, VBS, and plenty of other church activities. I learned about God the Father and Jesus His Son. I dutifully memorized scripture, knew the books of the Bible, and I watched my mother spill tears every Easter as the choir sang the stately old hymn, “He arose! He arose! Hallelujah, Christ arose…” Even with all that Christian formation, I never really “got it.”

Running out of chores, I tackled my “blessing drawer.” I’m not sure where, or from whom, I got the idea but when I got a note or a letter that was affirming I tossed it in the bottom drawer of my desk. Over the years it filled up, that’s not bragging, just saying a lot of years went by, and a week ago with the quarantine at full tilt, it was time to open it. I dumped them into an empty moving box and settled in. One by One One by one I read them, often pausing to ponder or cry like when I hit one from our deceased son, AJ.

I don’t recall the dreams, I don’t think they were “nightmares,” but when I awoke I was assaulted with, well, “Daymares.” Daymares of reality.

"What sort of follower of Jesus does God want to send into the world?" This, ever so basic, question has been a constant companion of late. So who comes to your mind? What distinguishes a follower of favor? How would you describe the perfect follower?