Two thirds of us are oral learners
Tell me another story, Myriam whispered as she knelt at my feet, tattooing my toes and ankles with a thick, dark paste of henna plant and cold tea.
Her eyes looked up at me, filled with longing, yet fear, knowing the potential consequence of hearing another story about Jesus. Myriam was thirsty to hear truth, and her open and curious heart had been moved with the power of God’s story, which had been feeding her soul while creating a hunger for more.
Week after week, I would visit Myriam, one of the first women I had met during our years in North Africa. She had become more than a dear friend; Myriam was my sister, rooti in Arabic. More
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Don't have anything to go here either...