When you truly matter to someone, time is not a wall — it’s a door they open for you, even with tired hands and crowded hours. Love doesn’t need to be begged for or chased down; it simply shows up. It shows up in the text that says, “I’m thinking of you,” in the coffee that’s still warm when life feels cold, in the listening that lingers longer than convenience allows.

I used to mistake tolerance for love — the kind that endures you rather than delights in you. It leaves you walking on eggshells, apologising for needing space at the table. Yet love — true love — doesn’t just include you; it considers you. It bends calendars, shortens miles, and lays out small sacred moments like fresh bread with your name written across it.

There comes a point in the healing journey where you stop knocking on closed doors. You stop shrinking to fit someone else’s comfort zone and begin walking toward the places where your heart is welcomed, not weighed down. To go where you are loved, not tolerated, isn’t pride — it’s stewardship. It’s choosing to nurture the soil that bears good fruit and release what withers your peace.

Presence is love’s purest proof. It doesn’t subcontract its heart to excuses or let its vows unravel in the rain. It keeps showing up — even in the storm — until truth becomes the light and faith becomes the bridge you can cross in the dark.

📖 “Love never fails.” — 1 Corinthians 13:8 (NKJV)

Finding Home Again

Not feeling at home has been with me for as long as I can remember.

“I’m a mistake” and “I shouldn’t be here” were the strongest foundational lies beneath my story. They built invisible walls around my heart long before I had the words to name them.

Yet, throughout my life, a rare few have made me feel at home — people whose love carried no conditions, no performance, no pretense. Their kindness was a glimpse of heaven’s hospitality, a reminder that God never intended me to wander through life feeling like an afterthought.

Recently, I realised that the very thing I least received growing up — time — the one I vowed never to need, is actually my love language. There’s never a moment I hesitate when someone I care about needs my time. It’s my way of saying, “You matter. You’re not an inconvenience.” Because I know what it feels like to be overlooked, I make time as an offering of love — a reflection of the Father’s heart that always has time for His children.

Those moments of being seen and welcomed were God’s gentle way of rewriting my foundation. Every embrace, every word of affirmation, every sacred space of belonging whispered: You were never a mistake. You were chosen. You belong.Now, I understand that home isn’t a place — it’s a Presence. It’s found in the quiet knowing that I am loved, wanted, and delighted in by the One who called me His own. I am learning, slowly and surely, to rest there. To stop searching for belonging in fragile places and dwell instead in the love that never moves away.

📖 “The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.” — Deuteronomy 33:27 (NKJV)

💡Prayer:

Heavenly Father, Thank You for teaching me the difference between being accepted and being adored by Your kind of love — one that never grows weary, never withdraws its affection. Thank You for the rare few who carried Your heart and reminded me I belong. Help me to rest in the truth that You are my home, my refuge, my unshakable place of belonging.May I carry that same love to others — the kind that makes time, keeps promises, and holds space like home. Help me recognise where Your love flows freely and have the courage to walk toward it. May I give the same steadfast love to others — the kind that makes time, keeps promises, and holds space like home.

In Jesus’ Name, Amen.