I’m amazed at how much my dogs have taught me. In fact, I think I may have learned more from them than I have from humans.
I’m in the process of writing a book about some of the life-changing moments I’ve experienced with my dogs. As I’ve started putting those stories on paper, there have been many times I’ve found myself writing through tears. Some of those moments carry a depth of emotion that is hard to even put into words.
This past month has reminded me why.
We have made some really hard visits. The kind where families are walking through unimaginable pain and I find myself wondering before I walk through the door, What in the world am I going to say? And over and over, my dogs have reminded me of the answer.
Sometimes I don’t need to say anything.
On one recent visit, there truly were no words for what this family was facing. I stayed in the background with my dog, quietly praying. I set the care box on the corner of the table and watched as my dog went from person to person offering comfort. No words were needed. Just sitting 
close, leaning in, offering a paw and giving someone a soft place to cry.
When it was time to leave, one of the family members came over, grabbed me and said, “This was the biggest gift we’ve received.”
That stopped me, because honestly, I hadn’t done anything. I hadn’t offered some profound words of wisdom. I hadn’t tried to make sense of something that didn’t make sense. I hadn’t tried to fix what couldn’t be fixed. I had simply been there. And my dog had simply been there.
I think it’s safe to say we’ve all had something in our lives that has hit us so hard there were no words that could make it better. In those moments, sometimes just knowing someone is willing to sit in the hard place with you makes all the difference.
I think that’s what I love most about my dogs and what I watch them do every time we make these visits. They don’t care about the diagnosis or the test results. They don’t try to explain why something happened, give some long explanation or tell someone to be strong. They just show up. They sit. They lean. They offer a paw. And if tears come, they stay.
There’s a lesson in that for all of us. We can get so worried about saying the right thing when someone is hurting, but I’ve learned that the greatest gift isn’t always found in our words. Sometimes it’s sitting beside someone, whispering a prayer, holding a hand, listening and staying. 
It’s being willing to enter someone’s hard place without trying to fix it.
When we began Lisa Bain Ministries, my mom said something to me that I’ve never forgotten. She said that care, connection, and community were not just words in our logo. They needed to be what people felt when we walked through the door.
I think I understand those words more today than I ever have.
Sometimes the greatest ministry is simply showing up and staying close.
Because sometimes comfort doesn’t need words. It simply needs presence.
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