Susan LaffertyWe walk this path. Step by step. A path marked by altars along the way. Holding significant stories of surrender. Set in certain places, at particular times.
Personal experiences. Where God settles the question lingering in the thick of things. Opens eyes to see. Moves hearts to know.
He is enough.
One such altar on my faith journey took place mid-day. In a Karachi summer.
Treasure. In my childhood, any mention of it fascinated me. Inspired imagination.
Treasure buried. Hidden. The historical findings of archaeological digs revealed in layer after layer.
The mystery, captivating. How various clues led to discovery. Of riches. And ancient civilizations.
In those days, I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist. But meanwhile, I was on the lookout. Tracing evidence that might lead to a prize.
Refuge. In the tropical afternoons of my childhood.
I’m sitting on soft dirt. Amid twisted roots. Under a canopy of thick, intertwined bougainvillea branches growing by the backyard fence.
Shelter. From unrelenting sun.
Shade. For afternoon play with plastic teacups and bowls. A plentiful supply of leaves and blossoms within reach.
The secret place where I can rest. And just be.
