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Column: The praying place
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It was back in the summer, when the sun hung high and hot in the sky and the droplets of humidity fell like unwanted drops of rain, that one of my precious friends called. For more than six months, death, tribulations, heartaches and trials had stormed from the blackest, most thunderous clouds to batter her. She is a woman raised solidly in the truth who believes unwaveringly in the mightiest of power.