Heavy rainfall pounding on tin roofs for the seventh day. Extremely rare in this vast desert. Muddy bricks shrinking, dissolving. Walls will move….fall. A nearby scream compels neighbors to bundle necessities and run to higher ground. The sound of falling walls, bending sheets of tin, shouting voices all announce that struggling survival will have to begin again.
Yet, in the midst of the chaos…the devastation, there are tiny cries of new life. Babies are born. Life will go on. Neighbor helps neighbor. No one is alone. The old tents return to their ancient roles of shelter…..of family….of heritage.
Beauty of hearts and spirits continue to bloom in the desert.