Sanctuary

(one corner of the table on Christmas evening: Italian, Congolese, French, Belge...)

You might be surprised where a sanctuary pops up, just when you need it. It was Christmas evening here in Niger, I had spent much of the day preparing food for our dinner together, darkness had fallen and time was past to be at the other house with my dishes. A teammate said she'd wait for me while I got showered and ready (what fun to have something to get dressed for and go to!). My part of the house was blessedly empty…and in a flash, those four cement walls of my bathroom became a sanctuary that rang with the carols of Christmas. I belted them in breathless freedom, relieved to recognize my own voice singing from the heart, careless if anyone heard me- life is too short to worry about that. So I sang and sang and joined the rest of the world giving back the song that the angels sang.

The following day, my bed, canopied with mosquito netting, became a sanctuary. A guitar, a hymnal and solitude eased my voice into song and I celebrated the Advent. It has been a good Noel here in Niger.