I kneeled down on my knees and asked an unfamiliar question.
"God, are you real?"
I looked around, anxiously, for any sign of a response. There was only silence.
I felt no whisper from the wind, felt no answer inside my heart. I was not surprised.
If God was real, He probably wouldn't even bother to acknowledge my request. And why
should He? I was nothing to Him.
"Grace!" I heard a voice call out.
"Yes?" I responded, wondering who it was.
"I'm so glad I could finally meet you! My name's Abigail, I'm a foster child. I'm so happy that there's a girl my age here. God is so good, isn't He?"
I paused, for a second, was this the answer I was looking for? I finally manage to croak out a question,
"What makes you say that?" She had every reason to hate Him, but for some reason she was glad; she thought God
was real and good.
"Well, one of the only things I prayed to God and asked Him was that I would have a friend that's a girl about my age.
I can't believe He answered so quickly."
