She had been shopping with her Mom in Wal-Mart. She must have been 6 years old, this beautiful brown haired, freckle-faced image of innocence. It was pouring outside. The kind of rain that gushes over the top of rain gutters, so much in a hurry to hit the Earth, it has no time to flow down the spout. We all stood there under the awning and just inside the door of the Wal-Mart. We all waited, some patiently, others irritated, because nature messed up their hurried day.