You see, socks are our friends...

I just saw that I have 27 hits today on my blog and that pretty much must be everyone I know, so I figure that you'd like to read something new? But I'm feeling sort of melancholy tonight. Maybe pensive is a better word, or contemplative (there are your words for the week). I'm not really sure why, except that in my research for a lesson on faith that I'm going to be writing this week I came across some statistics that are sort of shocking. I know, I know...27 people didn't come to my blog today to read some depressing statistic, but it's all I've got right now. So anyway, I read that
* "88% of children raised in evangelical homes leave church at the age of 18, never to return." - Southern Baptist Council on Family Life, 2002. Now I don't know how true that number really is; I've heard they're coming out with a new one soon. I do tend to think it's possible, though, because it happens in youth groups before 18. I'm thinking it's more like 16 years old for a lot of people. But then I read this, too...

* As a result of a different study, "Barna suggested that many Americans may have fallen in love with faith rather than the object of their faith. 'It's much less demanding to be devoted to the idea of faith than to invest yourself in a true relationship with the living God. The data raise the question of just what people have become infatuated with: the idea of being a person of faith or the reality of having an intimate, growing relationship with Jesus Christ.'"

so you can see why I'm leaning toward thoughtfulness rather than playfulness at the moment.

You will, perhaps, be entertained to know that I've been limping around for the last 6 days. I wasn't even able to play volleyball Saturday night, as the hole in my heel screams at me with every step. And I must look funny, too, since our Family Counselor (not our family counselor, but our church's paid staff person--if we needed one do you think I'd blog about it? :-) ) told me that I had toilet paper hanging from my foot last night after church. "It's gauze," I explained. And you know, it's difficult to actually say it in pig latin when people ask you what's wrong. I wish I could just say, "Read the blog." But, no, I have to come out with it. Although, I have learned that virtually everyone I tell has had their own anters-play ort-way at some point along the way. Strangely comforting for me, though perhaps scary for you. Wear socks, people. If we all work together we can stop this crazy epidemic.

Think of me Wednesday as I attempt to hop back up those stairs to the wacky foot doctor on the 2nd floor. And pray for more important things, like all the people out there who only think they have a clue.