Red umbrella

With confidence you can see things invisible

the hillside, a small village ghanh are subject to the longest drought ever. Having been a long dry season without taking a drop. The sun radiates heat like burning things, to the tree well into the lane by the blazing heat. Cried the ground began crumbling, causing many fields of food crops withered and dry.

Villagers sadness, anxiety first sign of a failed harvest. They fear their own lives, then this will also be a threat when no water to use. No way more people agreed to pray together in the hope comprehend God heard the pleas which injured love to rain down.

That evening, all the villagers to as church appointments. Since winter is rarely sufficient to meet all hands should start asking each other to celebrate. They were drunk, immersed in conversation that seemed to forget the purpose of the church.

The old priest looked around quietly. His presence is not some one noticed. Suddenly he noticed a little girl kneeling at the first row. She was praying – calm, holy crowd noise. Right beside her was a red umbrella – the umbrella appears only in the church. He looked affectionately innocent face, lovely but full of her beliefs, our emotions deeply. Where angels no remote, which is here.

Vigil took place and finally ended in the impatience of the majority of the participants. As they were preparing to rush back home, amazingly, a rain of my shirt. They all cheered, glad to look anxiously how all this time has finally come true. Suddenly everyone was silent, embarrassed to give way to her face glowing, holding a red umbrella gently stepped out into the rain.

All go to church to pray , but only a little girl is to believe in your prayers.

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