voice rang clear as the words of an old familiar song poured out of her. “‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name.’”
Rick recognized the prayer. Had mumbled the words himself as a young boy still trying to please his grandfather.
But he had never heard them sung with such crystal sincerity. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Becky as she closed her eyes and her hand lifted up, palm up in a gesture of surrender. She was a woman in communion with her God, her prayer pouring out of her in song, peace suffusing her features.
And as she sang, he heard in the depths of his soul, a still small voice, familiar, yet long suppressed.
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