As soon as those prison doors flew open, he moved onward and upward . . . no looking back. While he left his fellow mate behind, sitting in the dungeon he once knew all-too-well. Desire and desperation had so gripped Pharaoh’s cupbearer, he was willing to promise anything to be delivered from the pit of his suffering. But when he’d gotten what he wanted, he’d forgotten all about his promise. “Only remember me, when it is well with you, and please do me the kindness to mention

I’m not a builder. (Although, I do like building courage, confidence, and esteem in others.) So, while I may have formed an opinion on the matter, it’s an amateur and biased one—hopefully dripping with humility. Now my dad was a builder, although a self-made one. He loved to build. (He also had tendency to tear down and demolish—sometimes planned, sometimes not.) It seems to me that when you build, it should be something functional. Like a hospital, as opposed to a pyramid. O