Susan LaffertyTwo years ago on this day, I sit beside my husband’s bed in the ICU. Two stents newly inserted into one of his arteries. Blood now flowing freely through his heart. In a place formerly 100-percent blocked.
Only hours before, we walk. Drive. Talk. Laugh. Following everyday routines. Ordinary schedules.
Not knowing danger lurks.
Oblivious to unseen, unnoticed blockage wreaking havoc. Beneath the surface. Under skin and flesh and vessel.
Hesitation.
The soul stutters. Protests weakness.
Earthen vessels live fragile at times.
Trying too hard when it’s time to be still. Waiting too long when it’s time to move.
Resisting when He says speak. Stalling as He calls me somewhere out of my current comfort zone.
It’s a winter Sunday in Karachi. The late 1990’s. The worship service of the International Church of Karachi closes with the benediction.
Children run outside to play tag on the lawn in the sunshine. And adults filter slowly through the doors onto the patio.
Greeting one another. Stopping to chat and catch up. Pouring and sipping cups of tea in the shade of the carport.
Many linger for these fellowship times after the services. Sometimes for longer than the actual service itself.
Getting to know one another’s stories. Offering encouragement as we navigate the urban and cross-cultural challenges of living in the megacity. Karachi.