A few weeks after my son moved away, I walked past his bedroom.
The bed was still made.
A few things remained on the shelves that hadn’t fit into the car.
For a moment, I caught myself listening for the familiar sound of the garage door opening at the end of the day.
Of course, it never did.
It would have been easy to think that the quiet meant something had been lost.
Instead, I slowly began to realize something else.
Love hadn’t disappeared.
It had simply changed its address.
It now looked like phone calls instead of conversations across the dinner table.
Prayer instead of protection.
Encouragement instead of advice.
Trust instead of proximity.
I wonder if many of life’s transitions are invitations to discover that love is not measured by how tightly we hold on, but by how faithfully we remain present—even across distance.
Perhaps that is true for families.
Perhaps it is also true for communities, ministries, and leadership.
Sometimes faithful presence asks us to love in ways we have never loved before.
When has love changed its address in my own life?