“Be strong and courageous.” The message is repeated over and over to Joshua. And to me.
We stepped off the train from Jaipur at 11 p.m. in New Delhi and joined a moving river of fellow travelers. It was August 2009. The air was thick with heat and dust. The stench of garbage and urine hit full force.
I struggled to breathe.
All of us were streaming through and around various groups camped out in the train station, walking past dusty forms of men, women, and children asleep on the ground or on benches. The masses flowed up metal stairs and crossed the tracks on a walkway overhead.
Our family of five tried to keep up, pulling and lifting our suitcases, attempting to stay together.
It’s the week between. The winter pause that happens after Christmas celebrations and before New Year’s resolutions. I’ve pulled out the calendar and retrieved 2017 journals to take a look back. To remember and reflect on life experiences, turns in the road, significant “spiritual markers” like those Henry Blackaby referred to in 