At first there was a hush, then a pitter patter, and finally a loud applause of raindrops. I laid one hand on my journal. In the other hand, a rolled a pen in my fingers. It seemed like the clouds were sighing a heavy relief. I didn’t write one word on the smooth empty page. I just watched and wondered.

“How long is it supposed to rain?” Goldi stood glued against the kitchen wall squeezing a pillow.

I looked out. To her, I am sure it looked like buckets of water were being poured out from the heavens. I had to offer something hopeful, “Probably won’t be for a long time. ” I had no idea how long the rain would last or even if the loud smacking drops against the window would change to any kind of pitter patter.

I knew Goldie was anxious and scared. I knew because her eye balls nearly popped out of her sockets. She was watching from a distance the world grow blurry. She couldn’t see the trees in the backyard. She couldn’t see the street. She couldn’t see the mailbox. The noise of the overly excited raindrops smacked the house. Soon they sounded angry. “We aren’t just little drops of water. We’ll show you what can do!” they screamed.

I looked away from the water washed world. Goldie had scrunched down into a corner and lay her head on her knee caps. I let out a heavy sigh.

Goldie used to loved to dance in the puddles even when the rain poured down in buckets. I remember she practically dove into them and relished in the biggest, clearest, roundest, puddle. One splash and she was drenched. Back then, she even saw rainbows even in a sunless gray sky.

But now she is ” too old “to splash in puddles. She would rather stay in with a blanket over her head up or in a corner all scrunched up. She knows too much of all the worrisome possibilities and gets lost in them. She’s now old enough to think about consequences, hardship, challenge, and real life.

I sigh heavy and I am sure Goldi hears it even over the loudness of the rain. I sigh three times. I hear a breathy echo in the distance. Goldi was sighing too.

“Feel better?” I ask.

“A little,” she has lifted her head up slightly.

“I am glad.” I smiled big at her. She offers me a small little grin.

I don’t say anything more. I just watch the rain. The rain that makes the grass greener. The sun seems to shine brighter afterward. The flowers smile. The sky seems to show off a new shade of blue and under its roof there is silence sprinkled with giggles, because the kids can then come out and play. If it didn’t’ rain, none of that would happen. Next time, I will tell Goldi.

Phillipians 4:8

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.