Susan LaffertyThe wilderness soundtrack sounds like desert thirst. Barren field. Little fruit.
We sit in a conference with workers from some of those fields. Where the gospel has been sung. Refrain after refrain.
To no response.
Their voices strain at the chords. Lament in the place of veiled hearts. Where darkness is palpable.
I remember. The struggle to keep singing in the land where captives remained captive. Hearts closed to the One and Only.
Inside the cover of a 1995 journal, I find these words: In case of evacuation.
And underneath, a simple list. What I hoped to take.
Bible. Journals. Baby books. Two baby quilts Mom embroidered. Photos. Recipe book.
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.
