If It Rains

by Jennifer L. Wright

God was all I had left. So I was chasing Him. Chasing Him the only way I knew how: the way my mother had done—through acts of love that sometimes seemed reckless, crazy, making no sense at all. I was chasing Him through the mirror of things that could have been.

‘Every man a landlord,’ Congress was saying. Trouble is, not every man is fit to be a landlord. And not all land is fit to be lorded over.”

It was a violent place, prone to wrath and cruel to those who didn’t belong. But for those it called its own, there was peace. It was a

peace that prevailed despite hardships, despite sorrow, despite uncertainty. A peace that encouraged us to hang on one more day, pray for one more night, and nurse the wounds of our greed, rather than abandon the land to its injuries. It was the peace of knowing that, whatever lay ahead, we were home. And we would never be alone.