I’m training a garden hose on a forest fire.
The training is going well, as far as the hose knows. 
I mean it, that hose is giving that blaze its full focus and all that it’s got. It’s 100% committed and has no hope of containing or extinguishing what its pouring itself out onto.

However, hoses have no real ears to speak of (or to, for that fact), so telling it that there was no choice—nope, not a prayer nor a soothsayer would even suffice. This fire was all business and never played nice much less think once, never mind twice.

And the hose didn’t seem to care, continued to spray, despite all the hissing; it was such a big target there was no chance of missing.

And then, just when it was getting way beyond hot—you know that feeling that as you stay things are going to get hotter—there’s goes another hose right next to yours, appears out of somewhere and is doing good too and two, and then what do you see?

Yep, another hose—that’ll make 3.
And so it goes.

The story of the single hose that was joined by the many, which were more than the fire figured and was put out.

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    Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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