God is

the smile in your children’s faces
that breaks you open
before you can protect yourself

the way morning comes anyway
pulling light across a room
you didn’t think you could get up in

the breath that stays
even when you wish it would stop
even when you are too tired to carry it

the small hand that finds yours in the dark
and believes

without question—that you will be there

the moment you realize
you have to be

the light on the wall
that doesn’t explain anything
and still feels like mercy

the yes you didn’t plan to say
the one that leaves you trembling
the one that keeps you here

the chair you leave empty
and still return to
as if something might come back

the strength you never asked for
but were given anyway

the quiet that holds you
when you are falling apart
and no one knows

the forgiveness
that comes back
after you swore you were done

the love
you keep giving
even after it breaks you
even after it leaves you

again
and again

the nights
you sit alone
holding everything together

and no one sees

and still

you hold

the way you keep showing up
even when it costs you everything

the way you still care
after learning how much it hurts

the way you make space
for others
when no one made it for you

the moment you whisper
I can’t do this

and do it anyway

the life you are building
even when it feels like nothing is forming

the quiet strength
of not leaving yourself

when everything in you
wants to disappear

God is this

this breaking

this holding

this staying, the part of you that will not give up even when you beg it to

the hope that is not gentle or easy but relentless, the force that keeps your hands open and your heart turning

the reason you are still here, still loving, still choosing, still… after everything, still