Scribed In Light

This piece is for the silent warriors who love from afar, aching to help, yet bound by respect and honor.

There is a particular pain that only a mother knows – the pain of watching the child she once rocked to sleep walk through a storm…

Sometimes, the love we carry isn’t ours to place. Sometimes, the kindest, most respectful thing we can do is to step back – not because we want to, but because the person we love needs space more than support…and that too, is love. The hardest kind – the kind that whispers, “I’m here if you need me…but I will not push past your will.

It’s a quiet ache – watching someone you would walk through fire for…walk through it alone. Knowing that to respect their boundaries means denying every maternal instinct to hold, help, or even hover nearby. So you retreat – heart full of hope, prayers constant, love unconditional….just, nowhere to land.

That’s where the grief lays quiet – not in anger, not in blame, just within suspended ache of love with no landing place. If you’ve ever stood at the edge, heart aching in silence, know you are not alone.

You carry it in your chest like an unsung melody, a comfort unoffered, a presence unwelcomed – not because you are not welcome, but because the one you love chose to walk their road alone. Maybe, in their heart of hearts, they believe that this somehow protects you – from worry, from sorrow, from the weight of what they can barely carry themselves. However, what they may never fully realize is this: the love of a mother is never a burden, it’s the very shelter they’re trying to build, by shutting everyone out.

It isn’t about control. It isn’t about fixing. It isn’t even about needing recognition. It’s about raw, fierce, pure love that doesn’t know where to go when the doors stay shut.

You see the signs. You feel the shift. You know from instinct that something is wrong, but your hands are tied – tied by their boundaries, by their silence, by the dignity of a choice that isn’t yours to make. So you grieve…not only for what might be unfolding behind the veil, but for the aching truth: when love has no place to go, it becomes one of the cruelest kinds of helplessness.

So, you remind yourself: “This is their journey.” “This is not about me.” …and that’s true…mostly.

Some days, the ache presses harder because there is no off-switch for a mother’s love. No dimmer dial on the light you’ve carried for them since their first breath.

You don’t need to be in control. You just need to be close…to sit quietly beside their pain, to hold their hand – if only for a moment – and show them they don’t have to go through this alone. Instead, you sit in the shadows. Aching at the edge. Loving in silence. Honoring their choice and respecting their heart, even though yours is renting in two.

You channel that love…that grief…into prayer, into trust, into faith that your love still carries across the distance and reaches through closed doors to heal in the only way a mother’s love can…without needing to be seen…only to be felt.

So in the quiet, you hold fast to the only thing your soul knows to be true: that a mothers love knows no distance, no limits, no end. It asks for no permission, needs no spotlight – only presence, only faith, only healing.

No matter what. No matter when. No matter how… you will always be connected, you will always love unconditionally, and you will always be there…even if only in spirit. Because that’s what a mother’s love does – it stays, it reaches, it remains…even in silence. It doesn’t fade with distance. It doesn’t weaken when doors are closed. It simply finds another way.

When your presence isn’t invited, your prayers can still flood the room. When your voice can’t be heard, your love can still whisper through the quiet. When your arms can’t reach, your spirit can still hold them from afar. You may not get to walk beside them, but you can walk behind them – covering them in strength, shielding them in prayer, surrounding them with hope.

When you’re aching at the edge, remember this: A mother’s love is not powerless when it’s unseen. It’s never wasted, never small. It becomes the shelter, the covering, the unspoken miracle that holds steady in the unseen places – where healing begins, and love lives. Love doesn’t always mean action – sometimes it’s allowing your faith to reach where your hands cannot. It’s continuing to love fiercely, even when you’re asked to love quietly. That is not weakness, or helplessness…that is strength.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."  - Psalm 34:18

"Before they call I will answer;  while they are still speaking I will hear."  - Isaiah 65:24

“There are two lasting bequests we can give our children. One is roots. The other is wings.” – Hodding Carter

May your love find its way, even when it has no place to land.

With faith,

Tina Campbell | Scribed In Light