In Christian art, one can, from time to time, see someone with a square, not circular, halo over his head. Like the dude on the left in the mosaic below.
Square halos indicate someone, living at the time the work was created, who was presumed to be a saint.
I was driving with my friend Janice, who I'm pretty sure has a square halo over her head all the time, and she was talking about how she was praying for rain, since her garden hadn't gotten any since it was finally put in. The sky was blue, and the sun was slowly sinking its way toward the horizon, but still, prayers for rain were on the menu.
Just then, Janice's phone rings. It's her daughter on the other end, calling to tell her that there's flash flood and severe thunderstorm warnings issued for Olive Branch. I give Janice a sideways look, but nothing more. Downtown Memphis is clear as a bell.
We drive on the highway toward home, and in the distance, thunderheads are seen, dumping gallons of water on something or other. I look at Janice again. She says, hopefully, "That could be right over my garden. That would be such a blessing." I agree. Free water is always good.
She makes her request to God for rain a third time and, within seconds, we are in a downpour so severe I can't see the road 6 feet in front of me. We literally crossed a line of some sort, one minute we're on dry highway, the next, crawling along at 35 m.p.h. with truck spray everywhere.
I'm very quiet for most of the ride home. It's hard to concentrate with all the rain. Once off the highway, and visibility improves somewhat, I turn to Janice and stare at her for a bit. She asks what's wrong.
"Nothing." I say. "But seeing as you're on some sort of direct hotline to God, as evidenced by the deluge you just prayed up, could you badger him about getting my house sold?"
We'll see. If she can convince the Big Guy to send rain so quickly, I can only imagine what my square-haloed friend can do about real estate.