I was stuck at work when my wife went into labor — alone. After years of heartbreak, she needed me, but I was late. On my way to the hospital, she video-called — and behind her stood my mother.
We hadn’t spoken in three years. She’d disapproved of my marriage, missed our wedding. Yet there she was, holding my wife’s hand.
By the time I arrived, my mother simply whispered, “I’m sorry.” Moments later, our daughter was born — alive, perfect, crying.
That day changed everything. My mother started visiting again, cooking, knitting, healing. I learned that grace sometimes shows up quietly — in forgiveness, in second chances, in the hands that stay when others leave.
If you love someone, don’t wait. Show up. Because sometimes, love doesn’t knock twice.
