After going through a myriad of personal difficulties and losing three black women who were mentors/sisters/guides to me, I began to doubt my faith. I thought myself to be doing everything as best as I could, and nothing seemed to be going well. I never doubted the existence of God; perhaps even worse I doubted that my pleas would be heard.

I started crying and thought to myself, "If there are no answers, and God chooses to remain silent when we beg for understanding, what a cruel and pointless thing life is." I prayed," If you hear me God, please do not remain silent."

It was raining outside. I went out in my clothes with nothing to cover me and sat on my porch as the rain soaked through my clothes. I noticed that next to me there was a plant that I had given my mother after a difficult period in her life. The plant had been dying slowly for weeks. It was a beautiful brilliant mini-rosebush when I brought it home. The leaves and the blossoms had fallen off and it had been browning for weeks.

But now after the first storm of the season, the browning plant was growing green again and tiny rosebuds were blooming. I realized, like the rose, faith needs nourishment. If God did not forget the dying rose, surely I wouldn't be forgotten.

At that moment a burst of rain came from the clouds and the streets filled with pouring rain. Then a small still voice said," I am never silent."