Today I stepped on my Bible. I left it on the floor after hastily unpacking my bag and then in the morning frenzy, the cover opened, my foot landed, and I stepped on it, creasing the first few pages. Probably punishable in several countries but I'm telling myself that Jesus wouldn't get too bent out of shape.

I've been wondering what is going to happen to the steps of our house. Not these little stepping stones, but the perfectly intact, recently poured, smooth and solid concrete steps, six to be exact, that led up to the front door. Can't they be used, transplanted, melted...something? I can't quite wrap my mind around this destruction.

That was the way in, the way up, the way out. That's where the flowers, the pumpkins, the cat and I sat, to take a rest, to pet the dog, to tie my shoe, to find my keys, to watch the kids. That's how I got home. Today...I stepped on my Bible.