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As well as thirst and satisfaction, work and rest, heat and cooling, Jesus’ conversation with the woman of Samaria was about history and belonging, relationships, restoration, and the deep well of God’s love and faithfulness. Such things the lake brings to mind as the breeze moves across the waters, rippling away my reflection and replacing it with its own face.
Now, with another change of location and a new technological innovation, comes this beep.
The last time I attended an in-person conference, I remember the keynote speaker mentioning in passing that he sets an alarm on his phone at noon each day to remind him to pray.
I have decided to regard this beep as my personal call to prayer.
After well over an hour, with the canopy darkening and the narrow path dimming into that grainy soft focus that comes with the dusk, we were afraid that we might, in fact, be lost in the jungle, reputed still to harbour the occasional tiger, and definitely full of scorpions, spiders, and large and small lizards, along with our baby, toddler, and child. It was too late to turn back; the darkness would be upon us within minutes.
Halfway through packing for their pilgrimage to Jerusalem, the Temple and its sacrifice, the covenant and its blood, Joseph is distracted by the keening of the child. He had never noticed before how like grief a baby’s cry could be – wailing for the womb, mourning the waters from which it was drawn out and adopted into the world.
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