These are the moment when the Saint Francis Prayer is hard to adhere to. Love rather than be loved, forgive rather than be forgiven. I can forgive serial murderers, but I cannot seem to find an ounce of compassion for the thief who stole my 12 pages of news, most of which I skim anyways. What is so unforgivable? The fact that they stole from, gasp, me? Or the fact that they invaded my space? This incident just points out the fact that I have long road to travel, in order to be in alignment with God. I have opportunities every day to accept people for who they are, sticky fingers and all. Tomorrow, when I leave the house, I will make sure and pick up my paper. I will save the plastic bags that it is wrapped in and I will skim the headlines before placing it in a pile to be recycled. Or maybe, just maybe I will place it by the side of my driveway for someone else to read.