Sunday school songs played in my head as we passed signs welcoming us to the oldest city of the world and pointing us toward a wee sycamore tree. We’d spend only minutes here, looking out over the city from a rest stop, rooftop.
In the shortest of times we would see a wall-less city, the Mount of Temptation, and Zacchaeus’s perch. I would give a mini tour, half accurate – half inaccurate. A little boy would lead his goats down the streets. And a man would walk a camel as naturally as we walk our dogs.
And maybe I cried. Just a few tears. Because of promises made. And promises kept.
{originally posted 7.17.12}
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