Susan LaffertyIn the most unlikely places, a song of truth plays. Or Scripture is repeated. Even memorized. Without explanation.
And the words somehow settle in the brains of young ones. Not fully grasped or understood. Tucked in a corner.
Until one day, clarity comes. And the distant, vague memory is brought to life.
“Now it makes sense.”
Temporary place. A familiar part of the faith journey.
Each stop. Stirring mute awareness in the back of my mind. And the depths of my soul.
This is not for always. But only for a season.
No matter where we move. Set up house. And make a home.
A dense fog settled over me for several years. Like the fog slowing urban streets where we lived during part of that time.
Nearing 50, I joked about brain overload. How pieces of my mind were escaping. Slipping away.
But this was disorienting.
The thick fog outside our urban apartment hid the sun. Birds stopped singing.
I struggled to sing too. During the season I was menopaused.
