This week I have been watching clouds build tall, with their gray bellies, offering the promise of rain, then, blow right past us. We watch as another cloud builds thinking it too will pass us by. But, across the pond there are drops of rain, still invisible to the eye, but their evidence is observed as they kiss the surface of the water. Drop so small we think it could not possibly be the rain our plants so desperately need.
And isn’t this the way our prays sometimes come? Sometimes in small drops and sometimes in the storm.
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