My Cup Overflows

cup overflows

I was flying for a second day from Lusaka, Zambia to Douala, Cameroon. Africa is so big that such trips mean an overnight stay. Two flights.

On African routes I fly I rarely hear an American accent. But next to me on the plane from Addis Ababa, Ethiopia was an American. She was born in New York City. Now she teaches at a school of design in Milan, Italy.

I did not get her name. Still, my cup overflowed (Psalm 23:5).

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Swahili Camp

The first day of camp is always a bit awkward. A beautiful park-like setting offsets the discomfort of sleeping in a strange bed. You tour the campus. You settle on a place to sit in the cafeteria. You recognize old familiar faces, and you introduce yourself to new friends. You bid your established routine farewell and embrace a new lifestyle, at least for a little while.

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