=01 THE MYSTERY BEGINS

It was a mystery, to be sure. But not of the fearful ugly kind. Brenny, (Brenda Prainor) the church secretary, noticed that on some days there'd be a pile of grass clippings and such, usually somewhere on the front sidewalk. “So who cares?” someone might say. “The wind will blow them away before morning. No big deal.” But nothing could be more wrong.

The piles all began early last week. It was just a bit disappointing, in that Brenny felt a bit proud in keeping on top of things, besides all the administrative things, plus keeping a somewhat fresh pot of coffee at the ready. Pastor often referred to it as 'brain juice'. But she'd have no answers if asked about the randomly appearing piles.

Now, all of this would seem boring and terribly trivial. But maintaining a church in this part of town, requires a vigil for the unusual, close to a detective status. If you stood next to the church sign, proudly stating FIRST CHURCH of HIS WORD, with service times to follow, you'd see a crumbling neighborhood all around the church. It didn't seem like a part of town you'd want any of your loved ones to walk after dark. Even the new street lights installed two years ago, had been shot out; certainly target practice for souls angry with God and how He's treating them. Brenny fought hard to keep from thinking of this area as a 'broken glass jungle'.

So the questions persist, 'where have the piles come from? And more importantly, “What happens next?” Maybe the piles were 'sent' to keep Brenny on prayin' ground and a sharp eye out for God's moving in this 'broken glass jungle'. Nevertheless, the only reply she had, to the piles question, would be they seem to only appear on Tuesdays and Thursdays – but would always disappear by the next morning.

Detective Brenny asked Tom Davis, one of the trustees, about the piles mystery. His reply carried a clear nonchalant chuckle with words that almost sounded like, “Who cares?” He briskly headed for his office near the furnace room and a stack of reports he'd fallen quite far behind on.

Brenny also noticed one other thing she wasn't sure if it was a clue to the puzzle or not. Two different times, she saw the same bike-rider peddling past the church. The condition of the bike matched the appearance of the teen rider and also the broken glass jungle neighborhood. But what was odd, was she never – not even once – ever saw another young person, of any age, in the area.

“Jungles are dangerous places,” thought Brenda. She'd often paint verbal pictures in the minds of her Beginners Sunday School class. Almost without a breath, she'd describe those jungles, full of dangers, were all made by God, and often had people in them so afraid and confused in which way to turn, to get home and to safety and love. 

Once little Johnny's hand shot up and exclaimed, “Miss Prainor, I wanna help someone get home safe and to supper! Are you gonna teach us how to help?”