Your Silence Is Full of Love

The house is quiet now, and the silence you carry feels heavy enough to be mistaken for coldness. You worry that your stillness is a wall, that the people who need you are interpreting your pause as rejection.

But there is a difference between absence and the deep, gathering breath of love that does not always know how to speak. Mary was told, 'Do not weep...

for his grace will be entirely with you and will protect you.' The grace is present even when the words are not. You are not failing them by being quiet; you are holding space in the dark so the light can do its work without your interference.

Split a piece of wood, and the light is there beneath the bark, working without a sound. Your silence is not empty; it is full of a love that is too deep for noise.