It was raining buckets yesterday morning after Mass...
Folks beneath umbrellas walked to their cars, dry
like the Chosen people passing through the Red Sea,
dry shod and giving God the glory...
And now a yard of nylon,
stretched across a thin frame,
is just enough to keep me dry
in spite of heaven's downpour...
Sometimes the simplest things protect me:
a friend's care
a visored cap
the truth shared
a lotion's balm
a watchful eye
a promise kept
an umbrella's dome
a wise word
a hand to hold
a pause for prayer
reminding me that God is near,
rain or shine...
I'm with the Lord who goes before me
parting seas and holding my umbrella:
protecting me from harm in this day's storm...
(Here's the scripture reference for lines 3,4)
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