Susan LaffertyShell, found.
Tucked in a side pocket of an old backpack. From some forgotten trip.
Somewhere I walked on a beach. Gazed at the horizon.
Then looked down for treasure.
And there they were. Scattered on sand. Different shapes. Colors. Designs.
Intricate ridges. Swirls. Some perfect. Others, broken and jagged.
Each reminding me of something more.
Leaves crunch beneath my feet. Cold front moved in. So the air is chilled. Still.
Inside I’m scattered.
Numb.
Not sure how to process what’s happening. The unexpected hard.
“In everything give thanks”? How?
Packing up our lives every few years. Crossing oceans and borders. Figuring out friendships and fellowships and schools.
Navigating the spiritual landscapes that we land in.
How do we pray for our children in this cross-cultural life? Specifically and strategically?
Along the way I see the need for strong roots and movable tents. Stability and flexibility.
