Susan LaffertyPigs rush en masse down the steep bank. To their demise. Leaving one madman behind.
Now clothed. Calm. Coherent. And in his right mind.
The news spreads. People come from town and countryside to see for themselves. Hear eyewitness accounts.
But their response is unexpected.
They don’t want Jesus to stay. In fact, they can’t get Him out of there fast enough.
The journals come in all sizes. Most have survived extremes. Dust and drought. Mold and humidity. It shows.
They hold my life records. The common, daily occurrences of a cross-cultural life. The ongoing spiritual battle.
And the struggles of our children in the midst of it all.
Constant illnesses. Anxieties. Hurt. Fears.
In dust and drought. Mold and humidity.
She’s a walking picture of brokenness.
For more than eighteen years, this daughter of Abraham suffers a spiritual disabling of her physical body. She moves through life unable to straighten up at all. Bent over, face to the ground. Seeing dirt. Rocks. Feet.
Eighteen years of facing dirt, rocks, and feet—wherever she goes.