Thanks to a little boy we call Bug I think I've finally figured it out. It's because Jesus came that we have windows. Seven-year-old Bug told me this. We live in the same inner city neighborhood and often sit on the porch talking about when Jesus lived on earth.

"What do you think the world would be like if Jesus hadn't come?" I asked as the cars whizzed by my house.

Bug shot me an answer like it was common knowledge, "There'd be no windows."

I was confused, "What do you mean?"

"No windows. Places wouldn't have any."

"Why's that?"

"If Jesus'd never come every one would just be breaking all the rules. People would throw rocks at windows so much that finally we wouldn't have even one window left. But when Jesus came he kept things from gettin' that bad. That man had a plan."

I nodded.

Bug looked at me and went on, "Even you'd be breaking windows…even though you're a church girl and have it going on with God."

I smiled. His wisdom was impressive.

Bug knows a thing or two about "broken windows". His dad died of AIDS after a stint in prison and his mom is a slowly recovering narcotic addict. Their carefree group of weekend friends shared plenty of good times, forgotten nights and to their demise, contaminated needles. Four children later Bug's mom finds herself alone and often barely making enough money to pay for water, heat and rent. Bug and his three brothers grow themselves up in a mean mixture of chaos, street violence and good intentions. Their mom loves them dearly but for over a decade she loved shooting cocaine better. By the time she was ready to be a parent, her kids had learned to disrespect and not trust her. But still she tries. And that in itself is a window that isn't broken.

They trudge to the local church every other Sunday or so and make attempts to create a semblance of a family. Another window. Bug sits up with his mom and she tries to help him with his homework, even though she's tired and spent from another 12-hour day of being a waitress. And that too is a window that's in one piece.

As I sit remembering that strength and dignity of Bug and his mom I have another reason to thank God for redemption. Bug was right, that man Jesus had a plan. There is hope…we have windows that aren't broken, hearts that are healing and churches that open their doors and let the Gospel slip back into the neighborhoods. There is no place irredeemable. There is no heart that isn't made in the image of God.