Love Those Who Persecute You
As I rub the coconut oil into her hands, my fingers trace her callused skin, and I wonder about her life and what might have formed these visible signs of living. Viesna’s mom is sprawled across the wooden frame beneath her stilted house. Emily, Haley, and I surround her, each focusing on a different area of her body. The smell of aromatic oils fills the air, and I smile, taking this picture in. This Cambodian woman whom I met yesterday has quickly become an important piece of our story here, so let us start from the beginning.
It was Monday night. Bible study was supposed to start at...