The year: 1992 The city: Damascus A Quest for Bread The smell of bread wafts through the crisp morning air just as it has every morning for the past six weeks. It is 6:00 am, and I – on my way back from an early morning tajwid lesson – am starving. Every morning I suck […]
Every February I find myself with itchy eyes, non-stop sneezing, a scratchy throat, tight lungs and a little skin bubbling to boot. Allergies come early in Damascus. When I was a child I had an allergy test. The doctor scratched my back up with innumerable substances to determine what I was allergic to and what
I was asked to meet a ‘revert’ the other day. In this case I mean an Arab born Muslim who had traveled to Canada, fallen into sin and denial, then turned towards God through Christianity. She looked at me and said, “a believer knows another believer” and I shuddered. Had I had a shred of
Faith: An Inestimable Blessing Read More »
Ten years ago, I drove along a lengthy country path; on each side of me quaint squat homes surrounded by what looked to my American eyes like enlarged gardens, but were actually farm plots. Morning after morning I drove along that road, sometimes stopping to take a picture of sheep as they moseyed along, sometimes
