The Dawn Does Not Count Your Needs

The sun is up, but the panic is already whispering that you have asked for reassurance one too many times. You are convinced that your need is a weight they cannot carry, a drain that will finally make them leave.

So you tighten your grip, or you pull away entirely, waiting for the silence that proves you were right. But listen — the light that rose this morning did not check how many times it had to shine on the earth before it decided to return.

It simply rises. It does not grow tired of the dark.

There is a love that does not measure your need against its own patience. The Father who runs to meet the wandering son does not count the steps you take toward him and decide you are too much trouble.

He runs. Your hunger for connection is not a flaw that drives love away; it is the very thing that invites it closer.

The dawn is not annoyed by the night it has to break; it exists to meet it. You are not driving them away by needing them.

You are giving them a place to stand.