He spoke softly to her, because he noticed that she was so close to tears.
He paid careful attention to the details of her heart, to the words that were unspoken, and to the laughter she used to hide behind.
He knew that if he spoke too loud, she would break. He knew that if he used emphasis on the wrong words, she would break. He knew that she needed to break.
But he didn't want her to break the wrong way. He wanted her to break while she was in his arms, and in moment when she knew that she was in his arms. He didn't want her to feel all alone.
He stayed near. Consistently. He was near at all times, and she found deep comfort in him.
He listened. He knew that his words were valuable to her, but he patiently listened. Because he listened for so long, she eventually slowed her words and listened to him.
Finally he spoke. He spoke of his love for her and for her heart. He spoke of how he had never been far from her. He spoke of millions of years in the past, how even then he had been near.
So she stood.
She broke. She fell into his arms, finally let her eyes open, and let the tears fall. He held her close, never letting her go.
He took off the shame that had clung to her.
He took off her fear because she had no need for it anymore.
She was free.
He is Christ.
And she is me.