There are stories from Ethiopia that I can’t tell. I wish I could, and maybe if we were all sitting at a long dinner table, I would. But there are some stories best not posted on the world wide web. Some stories just deserve a dinner table, or a fireplace, perhaps a round of good drinks.
This morning, I’ll refrain from story telling. Instead, I’ll let you piece together your own. The warrior pastorlist with the kalishnikov; the orphan’s mirindi smile; the street kid in the tire swing. All people of different circumstance. All people filled with joy.
They are good people.
I am glad to be home. But I will miss their faces.