Her human pain wanted to close the gate. It wanted to shout, “Now you come back. Now that everything has collapsed.” It wanted justice in the form of rejection. But something deeper pushed through. Tara placed the hose aside and walked toward the gate with slow steps. Marina instinctively took one step back, head lowered. She waited for the scolding she believed she deserved.
“Mom. I have nowhere else to go. Please forgive me,” Marina whispered, covering her face.
Tara opened the gate wide. The soft creak of the iron filled the silence. She extended her arms without saying anything. Marina fell to her knees and clutched her mother’s legs with the desperate sobs of someone who knows she has failed but yearns to be loved. “Please forgive me. I left you when you needed me. I am worthless.”
With effort and tenderness, Tara bent down and helped her daughter rise. “Come, my child. Stand up.” She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. “You belong here.”
“I do not deserve to come into your house,” Marina sobbed.
“No one deserves grace, my child. That is why it is grace. Come inside. This is your home.”