Fear, You Don’t Get the Final Word
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We often say, “No one loves me,” or “God doesn’t love me anymore.”
But maybe the problem isn’t a lack of love.
Maybe we just don’t recognize it anymore.
Because love doesn’t always come dressed in flowers and fireworks.
Sometimes, it’s in a quiet, “Did you eat?”
A message that says, “Just checking in.”
A friend who doesn’t speak every day but asks how you're really doing when they see you.
That too—is love.
My little nephew, Roven often fights with me when we play. Sometimes I get upset and think, “He doesn’t care.”
But then, without fail, he comes back, says sorry, and wants to play again.
Not because he has no other friends—he has many.
But because he loves me.
And love… returns. Always
My loved ones don’t say “I love you” out loud. But when I fall, there’s that hand to lift me up. When I lose hope, someone unknowingly sends a word I needed. And when I feel lost, I realize—I was never alone.
That’s God’s love.
Disguised. Constant. Gentle.
I used to miss it too—until I saw it in the smallest gestures.
You might just be looking for roses,
while God is handing you bread.
And in His quiet wisdom,
He knows you need to be fed more than you need to be impressed.
So maybe today, we can stop expecting love to always be poetic.
Maybe we can start seeing it in people who stay, in small acts of care, in kindness that expects nothing in return.
And maybe we can offer that kind of love too.
Because someone out there is waiting to feel loved—
not through grand speeches, but through a quiet presence.
And we just might be the one God sends.
Love doesn’t always shout—it shows up, quietly, consistently. If you open your eyes, you’ll see God’s love is never missing, only misunderstood.
A poet, author, and faith writer who believes words can heal what silence hides. My poetry collections — Inked Emotions, Scattered Feelings Stitched in Ink, and Love Beyond Loss — were born out of seasons of grief, solitude, and deep reflection.
Here on Catholic365, I’ve been humbled to share reflections that have reached hundreds of readers. I write not from a place of perfection, but from a longing to make sense of love, loss, and the quiet ways God speaks into our lives.
Whether it’s a poem, a story, or a small reflection, my hope is that you feel seen, encouraged, and gently reminded that faith isn’t always loud — sometimes it’s found in the waiting, the falling, the starting again.
You can find more of my work at https://about.me/anniedcosta
