Susan Lafferty“Momma. Momma.” I woke from a deep sleep. In the middle of the night.
Jenna, 6 or 7 years old at the time, was standing next to the bed. Pressing my arm.
Yes?
“I heard a voice. Like this…” her voice changed from sweet innocence to a guttural growl. “‘Jenna, I’m going to get you.’ And there were two red eyes. And he laughed like this…” It was an evil laugh.
I sat up straight in bed. On high alert. Heart pounding. Wide awake.
It’s a winter Sunday in Karachi. The late 1990’s. The worship service of the International Church of Karachi closes with the benediction.
Children run outside to play tag on the lawn in the sunshine. And adults filter slowly through the doors onto the patio.
Greeting one another. Stopping to chat and catch up. Pouring and sipping cups of tea in the shade of the carport.
Many linger for these fellowship times after the services. Sometimes for longer than the actual service itself.
Getting to know one another’s stories. Offering encouragement as we navigate the urban and cross-cultural challenges of living in the megacity. Karachi.