If it were not for the promise he gave to make all things new, she would see no hope. In all the wanderings of her heart, she kept this promise near.
When her mistakes brought her to her knees, and she hung her head in shame, he made her heart new, taking the pain upon himself, so he could grant her a second chance. Or a third.
When others had left and forsaken her, when she found herself alone, she remembered: he was there. With each calling of her soul, he was listening. And he put a new song in her heart, a new song of hope.
When the days seemed to cycle like a never-ending train, he’d give her something new to look forward to: a new sunset, a new flower, a new smile from a stranger.
His love never grew old. It was like a fresh sunrise. His pursuit of her was relentless, abiding, ceaseless. He never grew tired or weary. Nothing new shocked or surprised him or made him run away. She could count on him; he possessed a trustworthiness, a dependability that was as steady as the seasons he himself had ordained. Nothing on earth could compare.
Love never grew old for him… and it was always new for her.