Heidi Neumark, pastor of Transfiguration Lutheran Church in the South Bronx, writes:

Because of visitation to their homes and because of our open doors after school, neighborhood children kept coming to the church. Many came without parents. Some walked. Some we picked up.

When I went to pick up Shanna for Sunday school one week, she was crying and had blood on her dress. "It's my Uncle Joe!" she said. I knew that her family was "going through changes" because of Uncle Joe and his drug addiction.

Shanna had particular reason to feel bitter toward her uncle. For years, she had dreamed of owning a bicycle, and that Christmas a donation from another church made her dream come true. Shanna rode her shiny, new, blue bike everywhere, bragged on it, polished it, and treasured it. Within a month, her uncle had sold the bike to buy drugs—an ample reason to embitter a 9-year-old.

Now, on this morning, there was one reason more. Uncle Joe had come home wearing a T-shirt that read, "Say No to Drugs." Shanna commented, "Why don't you read your own shirt?" He hit her, causing a nosebleed. The white collar and yellow lace of her Sunday dress were a mess. Nothing else was clean, and everyone else was still asleep. We went to church, where her teacher washed out the bloodstain.

When it came time in the service for individual prayer petitions, Shanna's voice sounded bright and clear as a trumpet: "I pray for my Uncle Joe. He needs your help, Lord. Please, Jesus, help my uncle." What a privilege to drink from the same chalice as Shanna.