The Smell of Rain

A cold March wind blew across the dark sky in Dallas as Dr. Matthews stepped quietly into a small hospital room. Inside, Diana lay recovering from emergency surgery, still groggy and weak. Her husband, David, sat beside her, gently holding her hand. Just hours earlier, on March 10, 1991, Diana had been rushed in for an emergency delivery—24 weeks into her pregnancy.

Their daughter, whom they named Danae, had been born far too early. She was only 12 inches long and weighed just over a pound. The room was silent as the doctor spoke with careful, quiet words. “I’m afraid she’s not likely to make it through the night,” he said gently. “Even if she does, the chances of her living a normal life are extremely low.”

The news hit like a storm. Diana and David sat stunned as the doctor explained all the problems Danae could face—she might never walk, never speak, might be blind, and could suffer from severe developmental delays. David reached for Diana’s hand as she shook her head in disbelief. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be. They had dreamed for years of completing their family with a daughter. Now, their dream felt like it was fading fast.

That night, while machines worked to keep Danae alive, Diana drifted in and out of sleep. Every time she opened her eyes, she became more certain of one thing—her baby girl was going to live. Diana refused to accept anything else.

David, however, felt the crushing weight of reality. He knew the odds. He sat quietly at Diana’s bedside and gently said they should start thinking about funeral plans—just in case. Diana looked at him through tears and said firmly, “No. I don’t care what the doctors say. She’s not going to die. One day, she’ll come home with us—healthy and strong.”

For days, Danae lay in an incubator, her tiny body surrounded by wires and tubes. Her nervous system was so fragile that even a touch caused her pain. Diana couldn’t even hold her or place a kiss on her forehead. All she could do was sit nearby, pray, and believe.

Each day brought a new challenge. But slowly, ever so slowly, Danae began to gain strength. An ounce here, an ounce there. The doctors didn’t give false hope, but Diana never stopped believing. After two long months, the nurses finally placed Danae in her mother’s arms. It was the first time Diana had ever held her baby girl, and she cried tears of joy.

Two more months passed, and though doctors continued to warn of possible long-term issues, Danae defied the odds. She was strong enough to go home. Diana’s dream had come true.

Years went by, and Danae continued to grow. By the time she was five, she was a lively, joyful little girl with sparkling eyes and a love for life. She showed no signs of the challenges she had once been predicted to face. She could run, play, talk nonstop—and she did all of it with a fearless heart.

Then, one hot summer day in 1996, Danae and her family were watching her brother’s baseball practice. She was sitting in Diana’s lap in the bleachers, chatting away as usual. Suddenly, Danae stopped talking. She wrapped her arms around her chest and looked up at her mom.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

Diana sniffed the air and replied, “Yes, it smells like rain. A storm must be coming.”

But Danae shook her head slowly and said something that made Diana’s heart stop.

“No, it smells like Him. It smells like God… like when you lay your head on His chest.”

Tears filled Diana’s eyes. In that moment, everything came flooding back—the long nights in the hospital, the prayers, the pain of not being able to hold her baby. And now, her little girl was telling her that she remembered something no one else could see or feel. It was as if she had been cradled in the arms of something greater when no one else could reach her.

Before the rain began to fall, Diana smiled through her tears. She finally understood. When she couldn’t hold Danae, when her touch would’ve hurt her fragile skin, God had stepped in. He had been there, holding Danae close, comforting her with His presence. That’s what Danae had felt. That’s the scent she recognized.

It wasn’t just rain in the air that day—it was a memory of love too deep for words and a miracle too great to forget.