Last night was the annual party among family and friends of Mother, the Corn Roast.
(Note: no corn is actually roasted on this night. It is a hamburger and hot dog barbecue with lots of boiled corn and a dessert table that sags under the weight of the goodies. I suppose "corn roast" has a better ring to it than "corn boil".)
The invitations went out weeks in advance. Preparations were made. And then, on the day of the party, rain. Solid, unyielding rain. The weatherman said it would not let up until long after dark.
My sister and I went to mother to discuss the weather.
Us: Mother, the weather is terrible. We should start calling people up and cancelling tonight.
Mother: No. I and my friends at church have been praying for good weather and I have faith the rain will stop before five.
She would not be swayed. So we continued getting ready for a party we were sure would be ruined by rain, when, at about four to four thirty, the rain slowed to a trickle, then stopped. A light breeze picked up and began drying off the yard. The weatherman was still telling us to expect rain into the night.
Mother, to me: See?
Me: Indeed I do. (pause.) Do you think you and your friends could pray over my lottery numbers?
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