On the Arabian sea, a few hundred miles south of Bethlehem, it is 61 degrees. The sun will rise soon. I imagine my daughter will stir from her bunk and go out to the hanger deck to gaze at the stars in the Middle East and wait for Christmas morning. I can almost smell the sea salt, and hear the water as the ship slices through the sea. I hope this day finds peace for her and everyone. And grace from God above.
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