She rocked back in her chair as the breeze played softly with a tendril of gray hair that fell loosely on her temple. Voices of the grandkids shrieking and laughing echoed from the yard below and though she watched them, her mind was in another place and another time. It was a time when she was young, living among the elite in Yugoslavia; a time when her father was in the inner circle of Josep Tito – above the masses’ deprived, disconsolate lives; a time when she had everything and felt nothing.

For in that place and at that time Communism had smothered all religions but itself. Citizens worked and loved and read and thought – but work was poorly rewarded and thoughts were stilted by muffled truths twisted into something that served the reigning religion. News was only what those in power wanted those watching to hear. And to think. And dreams? Well it’s hard to dream of something you have no idea exists.

When she moved to a place called the United States of America, she had marveled at the freedom everyone enjoyed but didn’t notice. The air was different in this country. Freedom made breathing easier. She discovered a Savior here – a name that had been all but banned in her former home. She could be a Christian here, and it made her freedom greater still.

Little feet ran up the steps of the wide porch and little Zuhra climbed into the familiar lap as her grandmother held her close and prayed a familiar prayer with first-hand gratefulness: Let freedom ring.

Photo by twinsfisch on Unsplash