Loved Even As A Stranger

The call ends, and the silence in the room feels heavier than before. You hear your own voice on the recording, sounding polite and careful, and realize you are becoming a stranger to the one who knows you best.

The distance is not measured in miles, but in the things you no longer say. Yet the light does not depend on your ability to explain yourself.

It was there before the first word was spoken, and it remains when the line goes dead. God is light; in him there is no darkness at all.

Even this growing silence cannot extinguish the connection that exists beneath the noise. You do not have to perform familiarity to be held.

The light sees the stranger you are becoming, and loves them just as much as the child you were.