Do they not see the birds above them with wings outspread and [sometimes] folded in? None holds them [aloft] except the Most Merciful. Indeed He is, of all things, Seeing.
That wasn't serendipity. That's destiny. My mother wasn't there anymore. It's stark, pitch-dark. Colossal, abysmal despair. Then, I found her: My Lightning Bug. -- For my Print and E-books: Go here, please: http://pothi.com/pothi/