We stood standing still a minute looking at it with pride. I looked up to the sky and closed my eyes and whispered, “Please let this garden grow. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
I felt something cold and wet hit my face with a splat, as the heavens opened and rain came pouring down on us.
We all scrambled to put our tools away and ran for the house. It was a happy, laughing family that piled into the house a few minutes later and watched the rain fall.
That summer there was a drought. Our beautiful garden began to wither and I could tell that if we
didn’t get rain soon, we would have nothing to harvest. It wasn’t just us though, it was everyone having the same problem. Every Sunday in church, we would pray for rain and commit it into God’s hands again and still no rain came. I couldn’t understand why God wouldn’t send rain.
One night, I laid awake and prayed, “God, what are you doing? I asked you to let our garden grow! Why would you leave us flat like this? We’ve all been praying for rain for weeks now, why don’t you send it?
Don’t you care? We trusted you!” I turned over and cried angry tears into my pillow.
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EsMarie 
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