I step out of the bus and immediately I think, "I want this orange-red dust to stay on my shoes forever." I once read that when we travel to a new place we look for what is the same. Nothing looks the same here, and yet neither is it shockingly different. Kids greet us in the road and want to introduce themselves in English. Women share shy smiles. Dogs run up and down the road. We tiptoe around mud puddles, knowing the sun that brightens the clear blue sky will soon dry them up.
We walk down the alley and join our Ethiopian brothers and sisters in a circle of folding chairs. We listen and ponder the mystery of the Gospel and remember His riches in place known for being poor. Together we pray that we, "