At the very edge of the parking lot, right
where the stones stopping one from falling into the abyss, there is a tin
house.
Four walls of tin surrounded by stones to separate
it from the rest of the Nature Reserve and a little handmade sign in Hebrew and
Arabic "private space, don't park". Desperately looking for a
bathroom, I saw a smoke behind it but not the private sign.
As I quickly approached, an old woman with
her legs bend, a stick in her hand, crouched - walked toward me shouting in
Arabic. I understood, "no sewer".
In the tin structure I saw a pair of sport shoes, neat arrangement of
clothing and sleeping bag, and a chair. Again
she shouted. I smiled, blessed her in
Hebrew and English, and retreated.
We surveyed the rest of the park and were
able to wash up. Later, we returned to
her with our picnic food. She indicated
to us that she has enough water, but the food she took with "shukran"
- thanking us.
Willie blew the Shofar in that park, at the
highest point of it, above the memorial for the five reserve soldiers who
were ambushed, abducted, murdered and returned to Israel in coffins as exchange
for many live prisoners. We felt the
Holy Spirit in that place and the Glory of God on us.
140 Days of Praise -
I have no idea how this old woman who is so crippled can live in that spot and
survive. I just know that God, somehow, is sustaining her there. I thank you
God that you have given to us a chance to offer bread and water in your name
and an opportunity to be blessed.
Thankful for my comfort,
Orith
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