“Let the heavens open above, and let righteousness rain down from the clouds; let the earth open wide for salvation to spring up, and let justice bloom.” - Isaiah 45:8 NIV
I’m an older dog now.
My muzzle is turning gray, my steps are a bit slower, and I don’t feel the need to chase every stick that hits the water.
These days, I’m content just to sit sometimes.
One day, my human and I were sitting by the water.
Not under a tree.
Not in the SUV.
Just sitting.
In the rain.
The rain coming straight down—no wind, no storm, no drama.
No thunder to make me nervous.
No lightning to make my human scan the sky.
Just rain.
Steady.
Honest.
Falling like it knew exactly where it was supposed to land.
Rain down and wash me clean.
Rain down and make me new.
The water in front of us rippled with every drop.
The rain soaked my fur and ran down my human’s face and jacket
Neither of us moved.
We didn’t talk much.
We didn’t need to.
We just looked at each other and smiled—a knowing smile.
It was the kind of smile that comes from having been through things together.
Long walks and hard days.
Full bowls and empty ones.
Losses that lingered longer than we wanted and joys that didn’t last long enough.
It’s the smile that says, We’re here - in the now.
Rain has a way of washing without rushing.
It doesn’t argue.
It doesn’t explain itself.
It just falls and does what rain has always done—clear the dust, soften the ground, feed what’s growing beneath the surface.
Washing everything… a renewal of sorts.
Rain reminds me of how God often works.
We expect Him in the storms—thunderous, loud, impossible to ignore.
But sometimes grace comes like this rain.
Straight down.
Quiet.
Steady.
No spectacle.
No warning.
Just rain that soaks in if we’ll sit still long enough.
“He refreshes my soul.”
—Psalm 23:3
My human didn’t say a prayer out loud, but I know one when I feel it.
It’s in the stillness.
In the way his shoulders relax.
In the way he stops trying to fix everything for a moment and just lets the rain fall.
I leaned against him.
He rested his arm on my shoulder, his hand on my head.
We didn’t hurry God along.
We didn’t ask for explanations.
We just sat and let the rain do its work.
Faith, I’ve learned, isn’t always about standing strong in the storm. Sometimes it’s about sitting quietly in the rain, trusting that the One who sends it knows what needs washing.
Old dogs understand this.
We’ve learned that not every moment needs action.
Some moments just need presence.
So we sit.
And we soak.
And we smile.
Because we know—
the rain won’t last forever,
but the grace it leaves behind will.
O Lord, rain down. Rain down on me.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
“You, God, showered abundant rain;
You revived Your inheritance when it languished.”
- Psalm 68:9 HCSB
