Susan LaffertyExiles in Babylon.
God’s Word to them felt deeply personal to us. During a particularly violent and unsettling season.
People were leaving our city. Families sent back to their home countries. Anti-American sentiment had ramped up more than ever.
Should we leave?
At one point my dad—who never, ever tried to interfere or direct us in any way—wrote “In my daily Bible study I keep seeing the words, ‘Flee Babylon…flee Babylon.” (Jeremiah 49:30; 50:8,16; 51:6)
Refuge. In the tropical afternoons of my childhood.
I’m sitting on soft dirt. Amid twisted roots. Under a canopy of thick, intertwined bougainvillea branches growing by the backyard fence.
Shelter. From unrelenting sun.
Shade. For afternoon play with plastic teacups and bowls. A plentiful supply of leaves and blossoms within reach.
The secret place where I can rest. And just be.
New Delhi, 2012. The electricity goes off. Right after a loud explosion. Most likely a transformer that’s blown in the neighborhood.
It’s late afternoon when shadows lengthen and shade our second floor flat. I sit in the dark. And wait.
The mental checklist forms automatically. Honed by long experience. If it’s an extended interruption of power, there are things to do.
