Just when I think maybe I don’t pray enough anymore, that I’m not actively communicating to the greater good what my thoughts are and where my heart is, so maybe now this time I have to sort through on my own, God grants me a thunderstorm.
It’s near 8 o’clock, I’m in bed with my legs propped up. My tea is almost done steeping.
One of the panels of the bedroom curtain is drawn back, and I can hear and see the rain.
An evening thunderstorm rolled in and is hanging out above us with a hearty steady rumble but not with fury.
Anything white or green outside glows in the dusk while the day is washed away.
An answer to a prayer.
There’s nothing like the peace of knowing you get to try again tomorrow.
Frozen Spaghetti 