Today I rode a camel. Happened this way: I wanted to ride the critter, but my skirt was not full, and I was expressing to Steve my concerns when the “camel manager” said I could ride side-saddle. As I stood beside the animal, and was maneuvering so that I could mount him, the “manager” said, “No, no. Just put your arms around  me. ” I did, and before I knew what was happening he had swung me up and I was atop a camel!  I was roaring with laughter, and tugging at my unco-operative skirt . . . let me remind you, my entire travel group was gathered about, laughing, snapping pictures . . Not good, but grandson Joel to the rescue.


“Here, Granny.” He shrugged from his jacket, and placed it across my knees.

It is high atop a camel, let me remind you, and I was squeezing something–some kind of a handle– for dear life. I felt as though I would topple forward, and go sprawling out before all my friends. . . but I didn’t!

Jerry had not seen my gracious mounting, but looked around and there I was, my figure outlined against the Jerusalem sky. “I could not believe it! I can’t believe you had the nerve to do that.”

Camel riding is exciting, but it does not compare to other things we did that day. A view of Golgotha and a long walk through the garden where Jesus prayed, communion. . .But I just cannot quickly write about such things . . . too moving, too spiritual, too emotional. Must save those thoughts for later.