When Love Waits at the Door

Sometimes reconciliation does not arrive with urgency.
It does not demand a response.
It does not insist on timing.

It simply appears — and waits.

A thought surfaces unexpectedly.
A name returns without effort.
A memory rises that has no clear purpose attached to it.

And love pauses.

Not because it is ready.
Not because it is sure.
But because something familiar is standing closer than it expected.

This moment is not dramatic.
There is no voice saying what to do.
No pressure to act.
No instruction to move forward or back.

Just the quiet awareness that something once closed
is now… near.

Love stands at the door
with its hand hovering —
remembering what it cost to close it in the first place.

Fear speaks softly here.
Not as panic,
but as caution learned honestly.

What if it hurts again?
What if nothing has changed?
What if opening costs more than staying shut?

This message does not ask you to open the door.
It does not tell you that you should.
It does not promise what would happen if you did.

It simply honours this sacred pause.

Because sometimes the most faithful thing love can do
is notice
that it still knows how to wait.

And God is not rushing this moment.
He is present in it.

Even now.