Susan LaffertyIt’s early 2013. Delhi, India. And I’m standing at the bathroom sink. Crying out to the Father. Again.
I can see the marble counter. The dingy mirror. Remember the blur of anguish. Helplessness.
“What are we to do, Lord? How do we help our son?”
The Lord has already made two things clear to me in that season (as detailed in Prodigal, Part 1).
1. Wait. Wait on the Lord.
2. Devote yourself to prayer.
Now I’m standing on the tile floor, in evening shadows. Pleading.
The challenge given to us that day was purposeful. Powerful.
To stay in the Word like our lives depend on it. Because they do. And to speak the Word like their lives depend on it. Because they do.
We caught the urgency. To share with the millions. And with the neighbor across the street.
We cross Bourbon Street to the beat. Jazz filters out of various establishments down the lane and around the corners.
Colorful lights and tunes draw us into the restaurant. Our party of six is ushered up narrow wooden steps to one of several dining rooms on the second floor.
Derrick the waiter greets us. And proceeds to describe the night’s special offerings in smooth, rapid New Orleans speech. We catch some of what he says, guessing at the rest. And look at the extensive menu of Cajun and Creole dishes.
After unhurried perusal, we order.