Loving Across an Uncrossable Distance
The day is ending, and the house is quieting down. You heard a child's voice in the crowd today, and your body turned before your mind could catch up.
For a second, the old ache rushed in—the instinct to answer a name that no longer needs answering. The darkness gathers, and in that space between the sound and the memory, the grief feels fresh again.
But the light does not scold you for turning around. It stands right there in the hesitation, holding the space where the silence now lives.
You are not forgetting; you are loving across a distance that cannot be crossed. The love that made you turn is the same love that holds you now.
Drawing from
John, Gospel of Thomas
Verses
John 14:18, Thomas 28
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