A Walk in the Rain

“My Beloved is mine, and I am His.” —Song of Songs 2:16

A gentle summer rain began to fall—light as breath, soft as a sigh. The kind of rain that doesn’t demand attention, but invites wonder.

And I heard Him.

Jesus: “My love, My little one… join Me for a walk in My rain?”

A pause, tender and playful—“…in My Reign?”

The words moved through me like the fragrance of jasmine—familiar, surprising, unforgettable. It felt like the kind of invitation that should arrive on a card etched in gold, tied with ribbon from heaven.

But it came instead through the quiet patter of rain.

And before my feet could move, my soul whispered back—Oh, my Jesus… yes. Let’s.

I slipped off my shoes for reverence—and because barefoot walks in the rain have always been one of my favorite things.

The rain greeted me like family. Warm and playful, like it had been waiting just for this. Tiny droplets covered me, shimmered across my arms, kissed the crown of my head.

Were they just rain? Or sparkles? Or kisses? Yes. They were all of it. And they were His.

And then—my foot found a deeper puddle. Warm and welcoming. A basin of rainwater prepared for me. Prepared for nearness.

There He was. The Lover of my soul. Washing my feet in the rain of His Reign. Each drop. Each ripple. A tender cleansing.

He walked with me—beside me.

With each step, I longed to slip my arm under His. To lean in.To draw near. Even nearer. Until there was no space left between us.

Ah… a moment like this. The Creator and the created walking through the rain—Heaven, brushing earth. Heart, pouring into heart.

His love—vast, immeasurable—met mine. Weak. And small.

Yet.

He received it fully.

He delighted in it. He called it beautiful.

And this moment—this ordinary, rain-wet moment—He made entirely holy.

Because He was in it. Because He is.

No other words were exchanged. None were needed.

Love was the language. Love was the silence. Love was the rain.

And Love—Jesus—was the One my soul adores.

His love, so intimate I can’t fully hold it. So faithful it carries me even when I don’t know I’m being carried.

His heart—His fiery heart—always opening doors for me, always leading me by the tips of my fingers, always thinking ahead.

One step. Two steps. A thousand steps ahead. Leaving little gifts scattered along the path for me to find.

Gifts like this— like a walk in His rain; a walk in His Reign.