You Do Not Have To Hide Your Trembling

The footsteps stop. The silence that follows is heavier than the day itself.

You hold your breath, hoping the rhythm of your own chest won't give you away, but the air feels too thin and the sound too loud. You are trying to be invisible in a room where you are already known.

The light does not need you to perform sleep to love you. It sees the pretense and stays anyway.

It sits on the edge of the bed in the gathering dark, not to demand you calm down, but to remind you that you do not have to hide your trembling to be held. The Father is not fooled by the quiet act, and He is not disappointed by the noise.

He is simply present, waiting for you to stop guarding the door.