Let It Rain

There are days when life feels upside down, when everything you once counted on shifts beneath your feet. Sunshine turns to rain, blue skies turn to gray, and what once felt like joy now feels like sorrow. I know that place well. I’ve watched my husband’s laughter turn to silence, his strength swallowed by seizures, his spirit weighed down by depression. I’ve felt good days collapse into bad ones without warning, leaving me exhausted and aching for relief. Happiness, once so natural, now often feels distant, like something I can only glimpse through the storm.

And yet—right in the middle of the downpour—I’m learning to remember this: I cannot always trust in the things I see. If I did, despair would have the final word. If I measured God’s presence by my circumstances, I might believe He’d forgotten me. But faith is not built on what I see—it’s built on who He is. And He has never stopped working, even in the rain. Sometimes the storm that feels like destruction is the very place He is shaping me most.

It’s a strange thing to pray, “Let it rain.” Everything in me wants to plead for the clouds to part, for the storm to pass, for the sun to shine again. But deeper still, I know this truth: what I need more than sunshine is Him. If rain is what keeps me dependent on Him, if storms are what drive me to His side, then even in the pain I can whisper, “Lord, I need You more and more.”

That doesn’t mean the storm is easy. It doesn’t mean the rain doesn’t sting. But it does mean that even in the downpour, there is purpose. Rain brings growth. Rain softens the hardened ground. Rain washes away what does not belong. And in my own life, I’ve seen how the storm has drawn me closer to God, taught me to pray with desperation, reminded me that I cannot hold everything together on my own.

“Not my will but Yours, Lord.” Those words are not always easy to say, especially when I long for healing, for peace, for restoration, for my husband’s freedom from the weight he carries. But they are words that anchor me in trust. Because His will is good, even when I don’t understand it. His ways are higher, even when they feel hidden. And if rain is part of the path, then He will be with me through every drop.

So I keep walking, not with perfect strength, but with a surrendered heart. Let it rain, let it pour—because even here, in the middle of the storm, I know He is with me, and He is working on me.