By Kristen Hogrefe Parnell @khogrefeparnell
My husband James and I live on a lake, so every time storm clouds darken the sky, we have a front row seat to the rain event. The lake water reveals the faintest sprinkles as well as the force of pelting rain.
Most of the time, though, the droplets are somewhere in the middle: not hesitant or angry, but constant. One night after dinner, as I stared through our glass French doors toward the water, the thought struck me: Our words should be like rain.
