Susan LaffertyThe young man apologizes as we get up to let him through to his window seat. We have a long flight ahead. Fourteen hours or so.
Beforehand, I’ve asked for a heart attentive to His prompting. And for willing availability, boldness to share the gospel.
It’s not my first thought on airplanes lately, to be honest. I’d rather chill in my own little world. Enjoy the extended “pause” from daily tasks.
But as he’s seated, I pray for wisdom. To listen and obey.
Jesus.
The radiance of God’s glory. The exact expression of His nature. He sustains all things by His powerful word. (Hebrews 1:1-3)
Radiance, cloaked. Hidden. In the womb of a young woman named Mary.
And there, the One who knits us together is knit together. Formed. Protected. Nourished.
And the time comes. Always anticipated, yet surprising. Sudden. Arriving with birth pangs. Labor.
And unto us a Child is born. Unto us a Son is given.
On beach vacations in my childhood, I made little sand bowls. Piled up a mountain of sand, scooped out the top, then slowly poured a cup of water in.
It baked in the tropical heat. And I baked in the tropical heat. Then, brushing away the loose sand, I lifted out a fragile oddly-shaped sand bowl.
The momentary art of a child at play.
The surf moved in and out. I sat in the vast ocean holding my little creation. A large wave drenched me. The bowl dissolved. Wet sand ran through my fingers in the waves. Delightful.
Then I made another one.