Susan LaffertySpecific names. Or initials. Scribbled in ink. Indelible. On lined paper in plastic-bound journals bought at the local bazaar.
Thirty years later I’m reading the pages. Details about our encounters with them.
Conversations. Situations.
Prayer requests recorded. Hospitalizations. Heartaches. Crises. Losses. Spiritual confusion.
The young man apologizes as we get up to let him through to his window seat. We have a long flight ahead. Fourteen hours or so.
Beforehand, I’ve asked for a heart attentive to His prompting. And for willing availability, boldness to share the gospel.
It’s not my first thought on airplanes lately, to be honest. I’d rather chill in my own little world. Enjoy the extended “pause” from daily tasks.
But as he’s seated, I pray for wisdom. To listen and obey.
