Susan LaffertyUntracked land. Most vivid on days marked by change. Upheaval.
When planned schedules sit. Unattended. Calendars, set aside.
And we enter unknown spaces.
On such a day, I remember the quote. Handwritten on a scrap of paper years ago. Placed on my desk.
Amy Carmichael’s words.
Simple shelter. Close quarters with eclectic decor. Spare furnishings.
She welcomes us in. And starts the fire on a small charcoal stove. Takes her sauce pan and pours in the green coffee beans, newly washed.
And so it begins.
The slow, deliberate way of an Ethiopian coffee ceremony.
Traditional hospitality. With laughter. And conversation about life.
Daily and eternal.
When Someday seems too far, the fragile heart mourns. Torn. Tender.
Walking in the weight of sorrow.
Sitting in the dark.
And we cry out for rocky paths made smooth. The broken place, whole. Strong winds and high waves, stilled.
Longing to affirm the true. And say we are crushed but not in despair.
