The Silence Is Not God's Silence

The phone sits on the table, a black mirror reflecting the room you are in. You wait for it to ring with the news that changes everything—the apology, the yes, the answer that makes the silence make sense.

But the hours pile up, and the screen stays dark. It feels like being forgotten.

Like the story has moved on without you. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not wait for a letter. He did not check his messages.

He ran. Before the speech, before the explanation—he ran.

The light does not communicate through signals you can miss. It is already here.

It has not been waiting for a call to start loving you. The silence of the phone is not the silence of God.

You are not waiting to be remembered. You are being held in the quiet.