Susan LaffertyLight falls. Through the archway. Across timeworn stones.
We sit in cool shade. Island breeze, soft. The old city, silent.
Footsteps echo in narrow passageways. Against ancient walls. In Malta.
Climbing uneven steps, we look out across a valley. Small villages scattered here and there. White houses. Flat roofs.
These stretch out to a defined edge. On the Mediterranean Sea.
Soul exhaustion sets in. Unexpected.
Byproduct from observing those who scorn the cross. And reject the gospel.
Stone heart resistance catches my breath.
So, I pray.
It hit me in a different way that day.
The gathering of family and friends to commission this latest group of sent ones. Newly trained. Now on their way. To places all over the globe.
It hit me when I saw the expressions. On parents’ faces.
Pride. Joy. Grief. And for some—uncertainty. Perhaps, even anger.
The time had come. For releasing their kids and grandkids. To travel across oceans and borders. Into a new and different life of serving in another culture.
