Hiding With God in the Steam

The water is loud enough to hide the sound, but not loud enough to hide the weight. You stand there in the steam, shaking, trying to wash away the shame of needing to cry where no one can see.

The afternoon stretches out—a long, gray middle where you perform strength for the people you love most. But listen.

The light does not require you to be dry to be held. It is not waiting for you to stop trembling.

It is right here in the tiles, in the steam, in the silence you think you are keeping. You are not hiding from God; you are hiding with God.

The water covers you, but the light sees you. And it calls this moment sacred.

The tears are not a failure of your faith. They are the water your soul needed to find its way back to the surface.