The Night Holds You Until Morning

The house is quiet now, and the silence feels less like peace and more like a verdict. You sit in the stillness of the evening, terrified that your child's quiet is actually relief that you are gone.

That your absence is the gift they finally received. But listen — the light that lives in you does not speak in accusations, and it does not keep a record of wrongs.

Even when the door is closed, even when the words have stopped, the love that flows from the Father has not been severed. It is not dependent on their response, or their relief, or their silence.

You are still held by a love that is greater than your worst mistake. The night is not here to judge you for the day that passed.

It is here to hold you until the morning comes.