The Magnolia Bride - Part 2
— She remembered firstIn the Beginning
Pure darkness.
Complete silence.
Yet, the beginning of all things.
We inhabit His imagination—where everything originates, yet nothing exists.
We keep our gaze fixed in holy anticipation, waiting to see what glorious vision He will set in motion next.
We stand in that space and time in-between—
where the Creator imagines something so breathtaking, so beyond comprehension,
and the actual forming of everything known to man.
His mind paints pictures of an unseen world—
a world that will cause creation to stand in awe for eons to come.
The beauty is unfathomable, clothed in darkness
and the wild unpredictability of His creation’s voice.
Time is not yet.
Only vastness.
Emptiness.
Calm—
all charged with the most powerful energy that will ever exist.
Then, I saw her.
I stood in awe as He formed her from His imagination— into the vastness, the emptiness,
the calm.
I knew she was mine.
Without sound or instruction, I felt the weight of His gaze rest upon me—
I am to guard and guide her.
Before our eyes, the most radiant convergence of His energy, mind, and purpose was poured into a being more beautiful than anything this realm has ever seen.
She rose at the sound of the Son’s breath.
She became the embodiment of His power, dressed in the flow of His femininity, crowned with royal fire.
In her left hand, she carried joy.
In her right, the reins of justice.
And with her mouth, she would speak the unfiltered truth.
Where the silence speaks
He had watched her walk the long road— through joy and silence, through fire and stillness.
He had guarded her in shadows and in light—unseen, but never distant.
And now, he watched her falter.
It was the kind of morning that carried no sound.
Grey. Windless. Heavy.
The magnolia outside her window had begun to shed its petals.
She noticed them scattered across the grass like unanswered prayers— and the sight seemed to echo her own weariness.
She wrapped herself in a shawl and curled at the foot of her bed, knees drawn close.
The stillness in the room was not peace today; it pressed like a question she could no longer silence.
For the first time in many months, she whispered into the quiet,
“Maybe I made it all up.”
Her Guardian felt the ache in her voice like a tremor in the heavens.
She didn’t mean to doubt.
But the waiting had stretched long and silent.
And though she still entered the inner sanctuary each day, the White Lotus remained unmoved—too still, too quiet.
Her soul longed for movement.
For a whisper.
Even the smallest shift in the invisible wind.
She hesitated, then asked the question that had settled deep inside her:
“Did I get it wrong, Lord?"
From Beyond the Veil
Where presence pulses through silence, unseen but near,
still far beyond the reach of mortal eyes,
I, her Guardian, hover in boundless light—
where time and space dissolve.
Beside me stands the Angel of Divine Love,
radiant and shimmering with rose-gold light—
a keeper of sacred promises and heavenly unions.
We watch her with an unbroken gaze,
feeling every tremble of her heart,
every breath of her doubt.
“She does not see the whole yet,” I say softly.
“But her faith is not lost. It bends, yes—but it does not break.”
The Angel of Love smiles gently.
“He dreams of her even now. Though he does not know her name, he feels her presence like a whispered prayer stirring his soul.”
My eyes follow the shimmering thread of golden light
stretching between earth and heaven.
“Their union was never a chance,” I say.
“It was written before time began— woven into the fabric of all that is and will be.”
She reaches out and brushes the thread with her fingers,
causing it to pulse and glow brighter.
“She remembered first,” she whispers.
A silence passes between us—thick with awe.
Not even heaven speaks quickly of these things.
Then she adds, almost reverently,
“Few unions were ever like theirs. Most are gifted.
But theirs... was spoken. A word before worlds. A covenant before breath.”
I nodded slowly.
“They were dreamt together.
Not as halves of a whole, but as a convergence—
two flames lit from the same eternal spark.”
The Angel’s eyes shone like dawn breaking over deep waters.
“He is still searching, not knowing he searches.
But the ache in him is ancient — the echo of her absence.”
“And she…” I whisper, “she carries the ache, too.
But hers is shaped by remembrance. His, by longing.”
The Angel’s voice softens further.
“He will awaken soon.
And when their souls recognise one another, the waiting will end.”
Together, we watch as the woman rises slowly,
gathering courage from the invisible strength we bestow—
a courage she cannot yet name.
I whisper,
“She may question,
but she carries the covenant deep within her.
That sacred knowing will never fade.”
She nods.
“For love written in heaven is eternal.
It waits patiently until the perfect moment to bloom.”
And so,
beneath our watchful gaze,
the unseen plan moves quietly forward—
promises held safe in the heart of time itself.
She rises
He watched her rise—not with clarity, but with courage.
The Guardian stood near, unseen,
as she moved slowly, barefoot across the wooden floor, toward the window.
Outside, the magnolia’s blossoms were thinning, but not yet gone.
One bloom remained, bright and white—
holding its place as if waiting for her to notice.
And she did.
She could not hear their voices.
But he felt it—
a flicker stirring deep within her.
Not certainty, but breath.
The breath of memory.
The breath of presence.
She turned toward the room she had set apart—
the sanctuary they knew well.
Her footsteps were quiet. Reverent.
She entered.
The White Lotus was still there.
It had not changed.
But she had.
She knelt.
“Even if I never see the end,” she whispered,
“I will still say yes.”
The Guardian smiled.
The bloom had not faded.
The promise was still alive.
And somewhere, not that far ...
From a place unseen, his guardian angel spoke softly to him:
“Far away, you walk unaware of the promise waiting for you.
But I watch—patient and steady,
whispering softly,
‘Though you do not yet know, you are being drawn.
Soon, you will remember.’”
And heaven, ever faithful, held the rest.