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The other day on my early morning walk in the pre-dawn, rainy season darkness, I was quite startled when my steps started crunching. Crunch, crunch, crunch! I decided I didn’t want to know what it was – yet — and kept walking.

Later that day I found out that particular spot on the highway was this year’s “Snail Crossing.” Hundreds of snails slimed their way across, while hundreds more unwittingly became “paving material au natural” from automobile and motorcycle tires, and one exercising falang (Westerner – me.)

During January another migration takes place up on the mountains. This one is accompanied by a pleasant sound, similar to a gentle breeze blowing through aspen trees. It’s rather soothing, unless you’re squeamish about spiders.

It’s the “Daddy-Long-Legs Crossing.” Tens of thousands of Daddy-long-legs converge, tip-toeing lightly across the dried fallen leaves of the cold season. I don’t know where they’re going, but they apparently do, as they show up at the same place every year.

There is another migration, though, that is not limited to a certain season or place. You witness it each and every day of the year as I do. It is human souls headed toward a lost eternity. Looking upon the faces of people we rub shoulders with and realizing that they are eternally lost without knowledge of the Savior is sobering.

You rub shoulders with them too.

Take a look around you. With whom could you share God’s Word?

We’ve got a job to do. Go team!
Tags: Thailand, Tribal Beat Stories,
POSTED ON Sep 25, 2007 by Beth Hansen

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