Susan LaffertyWordless. I don’t know what to say. How to pray.
But longing stirs. Hunger to hear Your voice. See Your lamp shining in the dark.
I try to look ahead. Nearsighted vision blurs the future. Shapes without edges loom. Nothing is clear.
So I open the Scriptures. Hold Your Word close. And read in black and white, words on the page.
Nothing can separate us from His love. Nothing.
Death begs to differ. Disease and pain try to write a different story. The troubles in this world whisper hopelessness.
Loss. Division. Fracture. All attempting to question or deny His love, compassion, and care.
And yet. We dare to hope. Because of our Savior.
He writes the true story.
Our firstborn was 14 weeks old when we moved overseas. En route to Pakistan.
The week before we left America, I held her close and wept. Quietly. With the door shut. In the bedroom at my in-laws’ home.
I asked the Lord, “What are we doing to our little girl?”
The weight of leaving what we knew and going to the unknown hit me hard that day as I rocked Becca in my arms.
But we finished packing our trunks and suitcases. Then boarded the Thai Airways flight across the ocean.
