Susan LaffertyThe sand was slippery. Soft. Shifting as we plunged through it to our tents by the river.
Not just any river. The brilliant blue-green water rushing by this camp was the Ganga, otherwise known as the Ganges. Worshiped by millions of Hindus.
Rise early in the morning. Just in time to walk out in the dark and witness the first edge of dawn. Pushing light against silhouetted trees, houses. Flooding pale hues of color across the sky.
No matter what happened the day before, whatever is taking place in this season—somehow the break of day clears the dark.
The candle flickers.
Just enough light to see the words.
While they were there in Bethlehem to register, “the time came for her to give birth” (Luke 2:6).
The time came.
On a short-term trip. In the midst of a temporary stay. Far from family and the familiar.