The Longing You Never Outgrew

There are some longings that do not fade with age.
They do not disappear with maturity.
They do not dissolve through logic or self-discipline.

They simply grow quieter.

You may have learned how to function without naming them.
How to succeed without expecting too much.
How to love without leaning too far forward.

But beneath the carefulness, something remained.

A longing to be chosen without effort.
To be safe without explanation.
To be close without fear of cost.
To be known without needing to perform.

This longing was never childish.
It was never unrealistic.
It was never something you were meant to outgrow.

It was evidence of what love was created for.

Often, disappointment does not kill desire—it teaches it to hide.
Hope does not leave; it learns restraint.
And longing does not disappear; it waits.

You may have told yourself you were past these things.
That you had become independent.
That you no longer needed what once hurt to want.

But the heart remembers.

It remembers what it reached for before it learned caution.
It remembers what it hoped for before hope felt costly.
It remembers the kind of closeness that felt natural before it felt risky.

This message is not here to awaken longing forcefully.
It is not here to ask you to act on it.
It is only here to name it—gently.

Because longing is not weakness.
It is not immaturity.
It is not failure.

It is love, still alive.

And God is not threatened by it.