I needed to borrow my Dad's Expedition for a couple of days while our van was in the repair shop. They are out of town so I took the liberty. I grabbed the keys from their kitchen counter and grabbed from a Costco-sized bag THE BIGGEST HANDFUL of M&Ms I could. Not being able to drive their unfamiliar big rig with only one hand, I looked for some place to set my copious number of candy-coated chocolates. Finding nothing ideal, I carefully placed them on the center consul and slowly, ever-so-slowly, drove off. Though my pile was large, I really did not want to lose even one.
Then I took my first turn and two started sliding. Risking life and limb (its a curvy driveway), I quickly placed my hand over the two rouge fellows in a protective move. Silly, I thought. I have so many. What's one or two less?
Then I took my second turn. And I lost one between the consul and my seat. Looking beside me, I could just see him peeking his little orange face up at me. I reached for him...but alas he disappeared into the crumbly, dusty place that is classic of a car's crevice. I mourned a moment (really, I did) and then I thought of the parable of the lost sheep. And I understood a little more about why the shepherd would leave his ninety-nine sheep in search of the lost one.
If I can mourn an M&M, how much more would He mourn an image-bearer?