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When my daughter Cynthia was a little girl, we lived in Odessa, TX. We made one of the pilgrimages that we did from time to time to see my wife, Rosemary’s family. Rosemary’s brother, Michael was in town at the time from the Navy. Now in West Texas, rain is a beautiful thing. We got one of those raining during the day sunshine showers. Michael immediately grabbed his niece’s hand and walked outside and said, “Smell the rain, Cynthia! Smell the rain!” Even as I relay this anecdote to you, I can smell the rain, just as I did that day over 30 years ago.

Now if I can smell rain thirty years after the fact, I wonder how the disciples (especially John) felt every time they smelled spikenard. I think I can tell you. I have the fondest of fond memories of Cynthia and her Uncle Michael smelling the rain.

I think every time anyone associated with the selfless act of Mary smelled spikenard, they thought of Jesus and the most selfless act ever.

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