courage

How often do we fully appreciate and utilize the “Imago Dei” of our fellow classmates in what used to be universally called Sunday School but now operates under a number of new attritions.  So often that hour passes and places the entire learning burden on the teacher.  Individual members assume little responsibility and the class misses insights from each person’s unique story.

I stirred the eggs on my plate and made polite conversation with a half dozen women circled around the breakfast table. I was the retreat speaker and this was an opportunity to learn more about the women attending.

Next to me sat Briana, a tall black woman with sculptured features, saucer eyes, and a thick British accent. While the other women laughed and shared stories of late night games and conversations, Briana’s downcast eyes seldom left her plate. I wondered why, so I softly attempted to engage her. 

“Where are you from, Briana?”