Pilgrims passed by that historic courtyard. Many stopped in for a shaded cup of coffee and moist carrot cake. The Emanuel Centre, מתחם עמנואל, was where the weary often spent a Saturday afternoon. Israelis were tired. War had taken its toll. What a joy it was to make music there nestled among the lush greenery and have the birds join in the song.
As our melodies and lyrics floated upwards and over the stone walls, we prayed for listening ears that lay beyond the protected patio. Our silent cry was, ‘God give life to the locals who walk Jerusalem’s narrow passageways.’
Mark and I played. Zoe sketched.
A young couple slow danced. And a few wept in the magic of the moment.
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