Susan LaffertyMaps torn at the creases. Unfolded and refolded over the years. Attempts to plot journeys.
Travels over land. Across the sea.
The flat paper world of continents and countries. Oceans and rivers. Cities. Mountains. Plains. Deserts.
Light-weight and world-at-a-glance.
Foldable. Disposable.
Unlike real-life-living in the marks on the map.
Winter trees. In crisp air at dawn. Stark. Branches bare. Empty.
The fog drifts in.
As I walk in fading darkness, I think about friends and family members who are suffering.
Standing weary. In the fog of impossible circumstances. Living with ongoing crisis. Conflict. Some with never-ending pain.
Cold and unrelenting winds whip through the lives of these loved ones.
And I ask how to pray.
What is His way for trees in winter?
Motionless. I sit. In sunlight. Stilled by loss and grief spilling across screens and down streets. Through personal stories of friends and strangers. Hard and sad.
Bitter wounds. Raw pain rooted deep. Laid bare.
Motionless. I wait. Stilled by the scale of it. What are we to do? Hands rest, palms up.
Eyes lifted to open sky between tall trees.
Wordless cry to the One I trust.
