Last Saturday as we walked away from a ride at Six Flags, I got a vivid glimpse of the field in Asia. Even as I thought of how fun our ride had been, the image came to me of the little children I saw begging on the crowded streets of India, and the contrast it was. I don't think I'll ever forget their sweet, high-pitched/shrill voices saying, "Rupees please, sir."

Even though they are on the other side of the world, they felt so real to me at that moment. Driving home from dropping off a friend who lives in my complex, I prayed these precious people will have a chance to hear the Gospel.

In church Sunday morning, they showed slides from our recent VBS. As children's faces flashed across the screen, I couldn't help thinking again of the dirty, bedraggled children in India ... children who are so cherished in the sight of God ... and no less beautiful to Him than my adorable nephews. O that these children would get to hear about Jesus!

When I was in India at one of the Dalit schools, the children sang songs and brought colorful flowers to each of us. As I looked around and saw the faces of these children--little ones now hearing about the hope found in Christ Jesus--I started crying. I felt a stirring within me ... and wondered what it meant. It may mean nothing more than that the Lord would have me on my knees more and more as a prayer warrior on their behalf. I would be content with that. Whatever the case, I want to be pliable in His hands, letting Him prepare me for each thing He would have me do for the furtherance of His kingdom.