They found a 1,400 year old Christian monastery in the United Arab Emirates. You can read about it HERE.
There's something about that story that gives me pause.
This was a site that would have been very important to the people who lived there, and in a relatively short period of time, at least geologically, there's nothing left but the foundation.
A few stones arranged rectangularly. Nothing left at all of the men who worshiped there, laughed there, cried there. No record of what thoughts they had, what lessons they learned, what friendships they formed.
Did they love the sea? Did they love the sand? Were they awed by the sunrises and sunsets?
Someone would have been the last one to leave. Did he look back? Did he intend to return?
There's just something unspeakably sad about it all.
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