The Wallflower

Maybe He waits for us in the conversations we avoid having with our parents.

Maybe He waits in the apologies we never give.

Maybe He waits in the kindness we postpone because we are too busy proving we are right.

Maybe He waits in the lonely friend whose message we keep forgetting to reply to.

We spend so much time trying to reach God.

We wake up early to pray.

We keep fasts.

We memorize verses.

We light lamps.

We follow rituals with devotion.

And none of that is wrong.

But sometimes I wonder if God looks beyond all of it and asks a much simpler question:

"How did you treat the people I sent into your life?"

Not how many prayers you recited.

Not how many hours you spent in worship.

Not how perfectly you performed every ritual.

But whether your presence made someone's burden lighter.

Whether your words healed more than they hurt.

Whether the people who loved you felt loved in return.

Whether your faith made you kinder.

Because what if the holiest thing about a person is not how often they speak to God, but how they speak to His creation?

What if every act of patience is a prayer?

What if every act of compassion is an offering?

What if every time we choose love over ego, God feels closer than He ever did inside a shrine?

Maybe the point was never to find God.

Maybe the point was to become a little more like the goodness we keep attributing to Him.

And maybe that's why some people feel divine long before they ever feel religious.