Susan LaffertyOver the holidays, we watch old movies together.
“Wait for it….”
Expecting the coming punchline. Dialogue already in our heads. And on our lips. Story summoning memory.
We anticipate what we’ve already seen.
2020. And the pandemic spreads to the ends of the earth. We wait. And walk in constant change. Cancellations. Upheaval.
Those serving around the world are affected. Some caught in months of lockdown. Stopped at borders. Forced to leave. Or forced to stay in their home countries.
At times it feels overwhelming. As we grieve unexpected losses.
In the middle of it all, I’m drawn back to a familiar psalm of deliverance. Psalm 18. Detailing the sure and powerful rescue by the Almighty.
This time I read the first verse. Stop. And can’t move past it.
I’m compelled in that moment. To reach beyond grief. And dwell on the deep, deep love of my King. Lover of my soul.
One Christmas in Karachi. Mary’s travel to Bethlehem in her pregnancy catches my attention. And imagination.
I’m expecting our second child at the time. Struggling with all-day sickness. I put myself in her shoes. On the rough road from Nazareth.
Arriving. Travel weary. And finding no place to stay.
Making do in temporary quarters. Where animals are kept.
Giving birth.
Away from home and the familiar.
Placing a newborn in the feeding trough.
Yet, treasure. In the midst of it all. She holds the Savior of the world in her arms.
