Recently Jeff and I went to see the movie Lion, about a young boy in a village in India who is separated from his family when he accidently gets on a train bound for a distant city. It’s a wonderful, triumphant film. When you see it (you should most definitely see it), be sure to have plenty of Kleenex on hand.

At the end of the film, a caption onscreen informs us that more than 80,000 children go missing each year in India. Wait—80,000 a year? This elicited the hoped-for response: I immediately began wondering what could be done about it. 

‘Twas the night after Christmas, and all through the house . . .

Actually, there was no house—which was the entire point.

Jeff and I had volunteered to spend the evening of December 26 staffing an Outer Banks homeless shelter, hosted this week by our church. We’d felt a little unmoored ourselves this Christmas, with all our parents gone now and no family members close by. Fortunately, some dear friends took us in for Christmas day, and we had a grand time.

But what if we’d had no house and nowhere at all to go? 

It’s almost Thanksgiving. Oh my. At the mention of that word, I start thinking of Christmas, and inevitably wondering if it makes sense to buy gifts for my loved ones that may be a little off the mark and a little more expensive—but that will help people in need.

“Cause marketing,” it’s called. I’m sure you’ve seen the ads. Buy a “compassion scarf,” one urges, and help poor women in India. These kinds of pitches always tug at me, and it’s gotten worse since