Send Down the Rain

by Charles Martin

Hope has a funny way of cracking people down the middle. Cutting through the tough places.

Healing comes in both the telling and the hearing.

“Because there was no guarantee of tomorrow. Only the hope of it.”

“But not love. Love rushes in where others won’t. Where the bullets are flying. It stands between. Pours out. Empties itself. It scours the wasteland, returns the pieces that were lost, and it never counts the cost.”

“Love walks into hell, where I sit in chains, where the verdict is guilty, grabs you by the heart, and says to the warden, ‘Me for him.’”

“For giving me what I needed.” He swallowed and dug his hand into the package. “And not what I deserved.”